

' o * X * A 

A o N c 

' * A * "* 'O 

A n * 

> •< ^ V ° 

' i \° °* t ^ 

■ i°° . . c k^“ • '/,*'* a 
0 V * 


$ X *’ > ^ / c s <0 

^ \ o N C ^ ^ 4 * * qV fl l I B ^ 

r^X\ ^ O C> v V 

* r K* iS «> c^oo^.W ' , * 


* A 

o 

A x t 0 N 

i V- ^ c -T' Cn 

‘A 

\ *> <*5a 

UY^ ✓ 



■% c,^- 


A A % % , 

c, ' ; v a < . » <• *%*' * * s s V 6 !* 1 1 8 ♦ % j °° k 


A.V t/> 

* aV </V 

* A , o, 
A 1 0 c * ^ 

<*0 * <* 



<\V </» 

*> .Vv </*-v 
„ ~ -X - ^ 

<A y 0 * * * \ A w ^ 

* <*> A 0 w G Q -1 

1 & J ^ * 

•< A o 

* c\ * 

" ^ o x° °<* 

f * - * .,%; ' * ;; & •- ;>\ , ..;v * *-\: 

» *■ . S2 S ~ ^ .- A ' yv A» r ft 5» * 


' o , x * A 

% A .‘ 
' A ^ 


% ' AA ' j- 

o N C fi ^ ' * * S A vl 

0° * V 


-< 

* 

O 


<0 


,0 









>, 2 uV/KSx 


</> 
a 


A 




< ' o * ji * A O- * / * * s <■ , < . y o * x * / 

,/ .< 0 "**, °o <f^LL*.% A 


+ O 

> ~ * 5 H 0 " *? 

<f *'*°S 'O 
a Ar Jri ' V 

: ^ ^ \° ^ A 

V <p 




^ tV o> 

M 5 •* A > 


K 0 °^. 


,* , 0 * 


> 5 " ° > ■,'•'<> 




* ***% «!? » y 
, ^'o. ' “ ■ ' qO’^ . > ’ • » ^ ' ° * ‘ * c o K = , ' J ' l 'o ‘ * ‘ 

0 ^ ^ *1 N 

’■> .#£. I WA'/C?- . •'Pt 


s <J> 


^ Xi 



r A V 


v v s 


'P r •? . X> ^ -» * (>P 

‘no’i 0 



r> o 0 X 






= %.^ v 

Z * 

R CA> ^ 
a? 



aV <p 
*V </\ 


V. > 


<\ 


0 * X 


A X on C ^ X 

* c°" c * '<?-> ,O k V* 





^ 17 3 N 0 3 ^°' 

> <Y ^ 'i * 0 

( p. / 

• * 


^ o 

/ 

uT V ^ 

* OQ x 

, v. 



0 N c 



% °o 


<• aO 
rvV ,U 







V 


s\ y 

* ( V ^ * 


O' 


P v v 


N 





0 * X "* 

-d 1 A*^ » ^ 

* ~Kf> ^ o 

■« ^ ** 



. 0 N C - ~V‘ 7 * « s S 1 



O' 


0 


w 


0*0 -70 


" kV 


9 Q \ *\ " \ w ^ * 


* \V * 
° ^P * 


- </> <0 
4 z 

° C .0 o 

V- v> 



!> 0 o*. ^ ^ 

v %' ^T^V’ Cb ^ x *^'”' /‘ s »» , 

r. -> ’ N ° < 3 V »■< *», \> v'' r 

*<J 

-y > 




> ■ > « < < f ‘°'^ * sf ' . » n <■ 



> V 





y 

O 



r . 

G> 

/■ 

s 

O 



» Q| 

r> <& 



\° °x. r 
* 

n.J C' l- 

O M 0 ' A 0 ^ * 

5 ?. Y * 0 o 

•- % / ;'M£, \ f . 


> 





Islanders. 


- * K ROMKNGE OF* - - 

IWA^THA’S • VlflEVfl^D, 

- - BY - - 


BVELtYRi WOODFORD WARE. 



UMMER BY THE SEA 

■wm— ^ 



For Rest and Recreation visit tlie Charming Resorts 
Reached by the 

OLD COLONY LINE, 

CAPE COD, 


Plymouth, the “ South Shore,” Newport, and the islands of 

jjyiartha’s \Aneyard and ]\Jantucket 


The section reached by this line embraces the entire shore and coast lines of 
southeastern Massachusetts, with their unrivalled attractions for the summer 
sojourner. Excursion tickets to ail the above points may be obtained at the offices 
of the line, No. 3 Old State House, and at Kneeland Street Station, Boston. 


FALL RIVER LINE 

FOR 

3NnESY*7" YORK; 

AWD POINTS SOUTH AND WEST. 

The Four Leading Steamboats of the World, 

P URITAN, T3ILGRIM, 

LYMOUTH, T ROVIDENCE. 

SERVICE UNEQUALLED. 

Band of music on each boat. Two steamers in each, direction every day 
during the summer months. 


THE ISLANDERS 


Ct Homattce of 

MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 



EVELYN WOODFORD WARE. 

3 ^ 



3 


BOSTON : 

PRESS OF ALFRED MUDGE & SON, 

No, 24 Franklin Street. 

1892. 





Copyright, A. D. 1892, 

BV 


Charlks Strahan, 


PROLOGUE. 


vrtha’s Vineyard — as everybody ought to 
but as here and there a benighted reader may 
•s a snug little island south of the Massachusetts 
bout half a dozen miles from the main land, 

• A ps three or four times that distance from 
the nearest point of Nantucket. In earlier times — 
not in a former century, but previous to the com- 
paratively recent influx of summer sojourners — its 
people had been largely sufficient unto themselves, 
never, perhaps, boasting the quaintness which is sup- 
posed to be a distinguishing characteristic of Nan- 
tucket, but in some portions of it at least exhibiting 
sufficient insular peculiarities to interest the tourist 
in a marked degree. 

Besides Oak Bluffs, which has since been incor- 
porated into the town of Cottage City, there are the 
neighboring villages of Exham, Wexham, Tisbury, 
and Chilmark, and the Indian settlement at Gay 
Head ; which, together with Gosnold Town over on 
Cuttyhunk, and the neighboring island of Chappa- 
quiddic, constitute the sovereign county of Dukes 
County. Indeed, this little domain is a veritable 
commonwealth in itself, with its own courts, its own 
political conventions, its own “governor ” when poor 
old Cary was alive, and a whole tribe of Indians. 

But while there may be little now in th e personnel 


4 


PROLOGUE. 


of any of the Island white communities to distinguish 
them from aggregations of people similarly situated 
in other parts of the State, — except possibly a some- 
what higher average of intelligence than elsewhere 
prevails, — the physical characteristics of the island 
remain unchanged, and constitute it one of the most 
interesting spots on the whole New England shore. 

The villages in the north and east sections, which, 
for the purposes of this narration, have been desig- 
nated as Exham and Wexham, are beautiful for 
situation, each after its kind, — the one, embowered 
in evergreen and oak, and rising by easy gradation 
from the waters of the sound to the eminence over- 
looking the charming lake of Tashmoo, suggesting to 
the passing voyager the vine-clad slopes and olive- 
crowned hills of the Mediterranean hamlets ; the 
other low-lying, but picturesque, skirting the love- 
liest and safest harbor on the coast, and exhibiting 
in its dwellings the substantial architecture of two 
centuries ago, as well as the more pretentious edifices 
of to-day. 

On the south, the mighty ocean sweeps in un- 
checked majesty, its huge billows towering heaven- 
ward for the final assault, then falling with far- 
resounding roar upon the beach, and sending their 
spray across the narrow strip of sand into the broad 
lagoon whose depths teem with white perch, and 
whose coves are the haunts of myriads of wild 
fowl. At the extreme west rise the far-famed cliffs 
of Gay Head, the home of the remnant of that 
tribe of redmen who once dominated the island, 


PROLOGUE. 


5 


while the hills and meadows and shady groves of 
Chilmark and Tisbury present scenes of unsurpassed 
pastoral beauty. Chappaquiddic, a natural bulwark 
between the ocean and the tranquil southeastern 
shore, with its steep bluffs overhanging the harbor, 
its long, vanishing beaches and forest-crowned 
heights (not to mention its remnant of a once 
numerous tribe of Indians) has long been an object 
of interest to tourists fond of departing from the 
beaten paths, and is now attracting the more general 
attention of lovers of primeval nature. 

Of Cottage City, the successor of the primitive 
camp meeting which the Methodist fathers instituted 
more than fifty years ago, and whose marvellous 
growth has been the astonishment of all familiar with 
its progress, it is unnecessary to speak here. In the 
“ season ” it is populous, it is mirthful ; its six hun- 
dred inhabitants swell to six thousand ; it has all the 
appointments of a permanent city with the freedom 
and carelessness of a camp ; it throbs with the music 
of bands and is radiant with the electric light. But 
it is the creature of to-day — or at best of yesterday — 
and carries its whole history and tells its own story 
in the moving throngs and the fanciful dwellings 
which present themselves to the newcomer. 

Whether the popularity of the Island as a summer 
resort has proved an unmixed blessing to its resident 
inhabitants is at least debatable, but that is a matter 
with which this history has no concern. Certain it 
is, that while owners of land have in many instances 
found their property greatly enhanced in value ; 


6 


PROLOGUE. 


while farmers are assured a large and convenient 
market for the produce of their farms, and boatmen 
are enabled to supplement the scanty returns from 
the sea with the shekels of the stranger who goes 
along to help (or hinder) the enterprise, — on the 
other hand, the father finds that the daughters of the 
city have aroused in the minds of his own girls a desire 
for greater and more expensive personal adornment ; 
the mother sheds secret tears over the new and 
adverse influences thrown about her boy ; the lover 
of the Sabbath sees the sacred day disregarded as 
though his ancient village were a Western suburb, 
and all realize that some of the purity, simplicity and 
uprightness, which perhaps more than compensated 
for the isolation, has gone forever. But, as before 
intimated, this is not a disquisition on morality, nor 
a treatise on the comparative advantages of seclusion 
over intercourse with the world, but simply a narra- 
tion of incidents as they were brought to the writer’s 
knowledge. 

And so, with the simple observation that the Island 
has greatly changed in many respects since the day 
when one corner of it sent out its quarter of a hun- 
dred whaleships to distant seas, and another corner 
assisted to man and officer those vessels or piloted 
the shipping of a nation over the neighboring shoals, 
while a third plowed sea and land and reaped a 
golden harvest from both, — and “ Lobsterville ” was 
undreamed of and the summer visitor unknown, — 
let us end the prologue and call our actors upon the 
stage. 


THE ISLANDERS. 


CHAPTER I. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, hearken to a complaint ! ” 

The clerk, a quiet, sober-visaged youth, had at 
last, in spite of the difficulties which everywhere 
seem to attend upon the performance of this cere- 
mony, succeeded in impanelling the jury for the 
June term of the Superior Court for Dukes County, 
187-, and the first case on the criminal docket had 
just been called. 

It was n’t a great case. The prisoner at the bar 
was not charged with killing his man. He hadn’t 
broken a bank, nor even robbed a hen roost. He 
had simply been discovered having in his possession 
a poor little lobster less than ten and a half inches 
long, “ to wit : of the length of ten and one-fourth 
inches ” ; and the Legislature of Massachusetts in its 
last session had said that any person who should be 
detected so possessing should suffer the penalty of 
the law in such case made and provided. 

In spite of the insignificance of the case, however* 
the unpopularity of the law, and the fact that this 
was the first prosecution under it, had served to draw 


8 


THE ISLANDERS; 


together a large attendance of fishermen and other 
interested parties, who, added to the customary con- 
tingent of indifferent spectators, filled the little court 
room to its utmost capacity. 

The complaint having been duly read to the jury, 
and the prosecuting attorney being about to proceed 
with the trial, the presiding judge bethought him to 
inquire of the prisoner — a gray-haired, broken- 
down looking old man, with all the evidences of 
extreme poverty about him — if he was represented 
by counsel. 

“No, your Honor,” replied the man, hesitatingly, 
in low and dejected tones ; “ I had a lawyer in the 
court below, but I have been unable to pay him his 
fee, and so he has thrown up the case. I have not 
been able to get anybody in his stead to help me.” 

A stranger in the crowd of bystanders, who had 
been making his way to the front while this colloquy 
was in progress, now came forward, and gaining the 
attention of the court announced himself an attorney 
practising in the courts of the Commonwealth, and 
offered his services to the prisoner at the bar. That 
individual, nothing loath, accepted the kindly prof- 
fer, and the trial proceeded. 

The testimony for the Government was brief but 
apparently conclusive. The only witness was an 
agent of a society for the preservation of various 
kinds of things, who deposed that he entered the 
defendant’s house and found the lobster in question 
cooking in a kettle on the defendant’s stove — add- 
ing that when found it was about ready for the table ; 


9 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 

that he measured it by a properly sealed measure, 
and ascertained that it lacked the legal length by 
one quarter of an inch. 

No cross-examination was attempted, and the 
government rested. 

Then the counsel for defendant took the floor, and 
was for the first time in full view of the whole as- 
semblage. Those who looked — that is to say, every- 
body — saw a slender man of seven or eight and 
twenty, of good height, thin-visaged, beardless, with 
deep-set eyes of grayish blue, and fair hair slightly 
waving about a broad white forehead. There was an 
evident lack of physical robustness, but a suggestion 
of mental power which perhaps had never been ex- 
erted to its full capacity, and of sensitive and imag- 
inative faculties easily aroused. 

“May it please the Court, Mr. Foreman and 
gentlemen,” began the young advocate, and the 
vibrant, penetrating tones produced an immediate 
hush ; “ I do not purpose to offer any testimony in 
behalf of my client here to-day, but simply to com- 
ment briefly on that which has been submitted by 
the Government, and to point out the utter insuffi- 
ciency of it to establish this charge. The truth of 
the facts stated by the witness is admitted, but their 
adequateness to prove the commission of the alleged 
offence is denied. 

“ For observe, gentlemen : the law must be 
assumed to have for its object the prevention of the 
taking of infant and illegal lobsters. Now, in order 
the more certainly to check this pernicious practice, 


10 


THE islanders; 


it has been made a penal offence even to have one in 
possession ; not because the possession in itself is so 
iniquitous, but because it is evidence either that the 
present possessor has in his own person been guilty 
of the crime of taking, or has become accessory to 
another’s offence by furnishing a market for his ill 
gotten goods. 

“But this prohibition, gentlemen, may fairly, and 
must even necessarily, from the point of view just 
considered, be said to be pronounced against the 
natural lobster, — the lobster that must not be caught 
— if not alive, at least raw. Indeed, the cooked 
lobster may be said to have ceased to be a lobster in 
the statute sense, just as, by the law of usage, roast 
veal is no longer calf, and roast pork is hog no more. 

“But the fact that this lobster had been cooked 
when measured opens up another and fatal ground 
of objection. Recurring to the proposition that the 
taking of short lobsters is the thing sought to be 
abolished, who shall say, with no other information 
than that derived from this post-mortem, ex post 
facto measurement, what were the dimensions of this 
lusty crustacean when careering through the cham- 
bers of the mighty deep, before it had been submitted 
to the ordeal of cooking, and had become the shriv- 
elled, shrunken, dwarfed and diminished thing now 
in evidence ! Everybody knows how a ham becomes 
reduced in bulk by boiling, and if a ham, why not a 
lobster; and if any, how much, and who shall say? 

“ Understand me, gentlemen. If it is clear to you 
that this terrible old man is actually guilty of this 


A BOMAN<5te OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 11 

heinous offence in its true intention, don’t spare him. 
Away with him ! Let him rot in the deepest dun- 
geon, or let his head be displayed on the court-house 
walls as a warning to the world that this slaughter of 
the innocents must be stayed. But gentlemen,” — 
and here the bell-like tones of the speaker sank to 
an impressive whisper, — “ if he has only been guilty 
of the indiscretion of omitting to have his victuals 
measured before they were cooked, let him have a 
verdict of acquittal.” 

The public prosecutor besought the jury to remem- 
ber that a fish was a fish, dead or alive, cooked or 
raw. The judge charged as gravely as he might in 
the face of this extraordinary plea ; and the jury, in 
^five minutes, returned a verdict of “Not guilty.” 

Meanwhile the mysterious stranger, without wait- 
ing for thanks or other recompense, had quietly left 
the court room, and the criminal docket sped quickly 
to the end of an otherwise uninteresting calendar. 

Robert Lynden, the young man whose appearance 
upon the scene has just been chronicled, was the 
only son of a widowed mother, resident in one of the 
most charming agricultural villages of the State, 
where, with the exception of four years at college 
and two seasons of law lectures, supplemented by a 
year’s foreign travel, his whole life had been spent. 

Orphaned at an early age by the death of his 
father, then a young but promising physician, the 
timely decease of a distant relative soon after left the 
infant in possession of considerable property, which, 


12 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


under the wise management of the mother, had 
sufficed to secure to the boy a liberal education — 
without the privations which so often accompany its 
procurement — and since his arrival to man’s estate 
had supported them both in the modest comfort 
which contented them while looking forward to the 
larger rewards to result from the young man’s prac- 
tice of his profession. A somewhat delicate consti- 
tution, however, joined to a rather dreamy tempera- 
ment, had thus far operated to deter Robert from 
any very active efforts in the direction of earning 
his own living, and a protracted season of more than 
usual lassitude had sent him to the seaside for the bet- 
terment of his condition. Having fixed upon the most 
desirable location for the summer’s sojourn, it was 
his intention to return for his mother and with her 
take up his abode there for so much of the year as 
his health seemed to be benefited by the change. 

Like everybody else travelling to the Vineyard, 
young Lynden had made his first landing at Oak 
Bluffs, whence, after exploring whatever of interest 
was afforded by that locality, he had sallied out on 
little excursions to the neighboring villages, partly 
with a view to varying the monotony of island life in 
the early summer, and also to spy out the land with 
an eye to settling upon a spot where he and his 
mother might best make their season’s home. And 
it was in one of these wanderings that he chanced in 
upon the scene with which this story opens, and 
became — doubtless to his own surprise — one of the 
principal performers in the little drama there enacted. 


A ROMANCE! 'OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


13 


CHAPTEK II. 

A week has elapsed since the little episode first 
narrated, and Lynden and his mother have fixed upon 
their place of abode, and found comfortable quarters 
in the pleasant village of Exham. It is a rambling 
old mansion, the property — with a considerable out- 
lying estate — of a well-to-do couple who have 
decided to take the Lyndens in as people whom it 
will be agreeable to “have about,” rather than from 
a purely commercial point of view ; and the new 
inmates are provided with a suite of roomy apartments 
in the east wing where they may have as much or as 
little privacy as they desire. 

Christopher and Martha Owen are the names of 
this worthy couple — he, smooth-shaven, spare, 
sprightly, the incumbent of various local offices and 
adviser-at-large to the people of the town ; she plump 
but energetic, quick-witted, good-tempered, and one 
of the most notable housekeepers in the township. 
Only two real trials in life will Mrs. Owen admit : 
The unseasonable “caller ’’who ought to know that 
anywhere from five o’clock to half past six is liable 
to be somebody’s supper time if it is n’t theirs ; and 
the small boy who will persist in ringing the door- 
bell whenever he leaves a concert programme or 
advertising circular. 


14 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“I can’t understand,” Mrs. Owen would declare, 
with an approach to asperity foreign to her usual 
cheerful declamation, “ why people who choose to 
have their dinner and supper together in the middle 
of the afternoon, or those who don’t have their tea 
till the middle of the evening, should conclude at 
once that everybody else follows their example. 
Folks ought to be exempt from visitors for not only 
the customary meal time, but a reasonable margin 
each side for differences.” And when she or the 
maid left some household duty to answer a per- 
emptory ring at the front door, only to discover on 
the hall floor the announcement of a “ Way-Down 
Sale” of dry goods at the corner shop, she would 
hurl the offending handbill into the waste-basket and 
vow she ’d go in rags before she ’d patronize an estab- 
lishment that gave people so much needless trouble. 
But those were pardonable ebullitions, and could not 
affect the popular estimate of Mrs. Owen as one of 
the best- hearted and most companionable of women. 

There were no children. That is, next to none. 
A few years before a little stranger had put in an 
appearance, greatly to the surprise of all concerned, 
and had since grown into a scrawly, wispy-hairedj 
cross-grained, but healthy little creature of five or 
six summers. But she was so seldom seen about the 
house in pleasant weather — so entirely was her time 
passed in the fields and neighboring woods — that 
people often forgot to include her in the family enu- 
meration. In fact, even the father, on the infre- 
quent occasions when he chanced to encounter his 


A ROMANCE t>F MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 15 

child, had a way of regarding her through his spec- 
tacles as though seeing her for the first time ; while 
Mrs. Owen, though not wanting in fondness for her 
unexpected offspring, seemed quite willing that this 
uncomfortable child of her mature years should be as 
little noticed as need be. 

The location of the house could hardly have been 
improved. It was situated on a gentle bluff over- 
looking the harbor, with opposite land off at an 
angle in the near distance, at another angle the broad 
reach of the sound, while between a succession of 
sailing craft, with an occasional steam launch, were 
constantly plying. The outlook was charming to 
the last degree, and as Lynden finished his after- 
breakfast cigar on the morning after his arrival and 
sauntered lazily down to the pier, he felt that his 
lines had indeed fallen in pleasant places, and that 
the summer, whatever of bodily benefit it might 
bring to him, could not fail in imparting the con- 
tentment of mind which springs from congenial 
surroundings. 

Arrived at the pier the first animate object that 
met his gaze was the ancient fisherman, whose cause 
he had pleaded so successfully the previous week. 
The recognition was mutual, and the weather-worn 
voyager was hastening in curt fashion, but not un- 
kindly tones, to express his gratitude for the timely 
service and his desire to make some recompense for 
the same, but was interrupted before he had well 
commenced. 

“‘Thank me no thanks,’ ” said young Lynden? 


16 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


laughingly ; “ and talk not about compensation for my 
humble services. It is I who am your debtor, inas- 
much as your predicament gave me an opportunity 
to practice a little at a trade which I have thus far 
sadly neglected.” 

“Since you choose to regard it so,” said the fisher- 
man, “I will not press the matter further, though 
you must allow me the comfort of at least expressing 
my appreciation.” 

“All right,” said Lynden ; “ let us compromise on 
that. And now let me ask where you are bound 
this delightful day.” 

“Bluefishing, if the wind holds, and if you like 
I ’ll be glad to have you go along.” 

“With all my heart,” says Lynden, “if you will 
wait for me to change some of my garb” ; and with- 
out staying for an answer was back to his boarding 
place, whence he soon reappeared suitably clad, and 
with luncheon and other requisites for the cruise. 

All other necessary preparations having already 
been made, the boat was forthwith detached from 
her moorings, and under the influence of a light 
west wind, was soon carrying passenger and crew 
into the open sound. 

No one who cannot recall a similar excursion 
made for the first time can appreciate Lynden’s 
sensations as the boat glided on over the watery 
way. The air was almost intoxicating in its clear- 
ness. The surface of the harbor sparkled under the 
sun and rippled under the freshening breeze, and 

the swelling sail seemed instinct with life. Passing: 

° p 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


17 




boats sent their “ hail ho ! ” across the intervening 
water. Here and there groups of wild fowl rested 
tranquilly on the bosom of the sound, — or dived 
below, or skimmed away on low-flying wing. Later 
a train of porpoises went bounding and plunging 
along on their jocund journey, while farther away 
the never-ending procession of eastern-bound coasters 
pursued their stately course down over the shoals. 
To a person of Lynden’s imaginative temperament 
all these sights and sounds made up an entertain- 
ment which held him with an indescribable fascina- 
tion ; and so oblivious had he become to lapse of 
time or distance travelled, that, before he had come 
to realize that the voyage was well begun, they 
had traversed a considerable section of the sound, 
rounded Cape Pogue, and were fairly upon the 
fishing ground. 

Having despatched their luncheon, the drails were 
put out, the boat still winging her way under the 
freshening breeze, and in less time than it takes to 
tell it both fishermen were “fast.” For an hour 
thereafter the fun, as the comedy posters announce, 
was “ fast and furious,” and both men had their 
hands full with the ever -tightening lines, — the 
amateur imitating the professional to the best of his 
ability, and finding himself at the end of the hour a 
good deal used up, but with about a third of the 
whole catch credited to himself. 

Having had e'nough sport by this time for a 
starter, Lynden spent the next half hour in a fur- 
ther investigation of the lunch-basket, and by the 


18 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


end of the second hour the skipper announced the 
fishing over for that tide, and put about for home. 

During the sail out Lynden had been so entirely 
possessed with a sense of the harmonies of nature, 
and a feeling of bodily comfort and contentment, 
that he had been little disposed to conversation ; and 
while the fishing was on there was little opportunity 
for that diversion. Now, however, the return home 
promised to be not quite so rapid as the outward 
trip, and a greater familiarity with his situation 
moved the young man to turn to his elderly com- 
panion for a little entertainment from that quarter. 

To his surprise, however, his conversational over- 
tures met with little encouragement from the older 
man. Such answers as common civility compelled 
him to vouchsafe were couched in terms which indi- 
cated that he had sufficient command of language to 
talk easily, and even gracefully ; but there was an 
evident reluctance to be drawn out which the younger 
man found it impossible to overcome. 

“This is a fine boat, Capt. ” 

“ Austin,” supplied the skipper. “ Yes.” 

“I suppose you take considerable pride in her 
sailing qualities?” 

“ I should if she was mine.” 

“ Then you are not her owner? ” 

“ No.” 

“Is fishing quite profitable here, taking the year 
'round ? ” 

“No.” 

“Do you like the life?'” 


a romance of Martha’s vineyard. 19 

“Yes.” 

“But it’s a toilsome one, is n’t it, full of hardship 
and exposure, and you say attended with little 
profit?” 

“Yes.” 

“ They why do you follow it ? ” persisted Robert. 

“ In the first place,” replied the fisherman, reluc- 
tantly, “ because it ’s all I ’m fit for now, and in the 
next place because it takes me away from everything 
and everybody. I prefer solitude to the society of 
my own kind — no ofifence, young man.” 

“ No, I can’t take any, as you invited me along. 
And, by the way, with the unsocial disposition to 
which you have just confessed, how did you come to 
do that?” 

“ I could hardly avoid extending you that much 
civility,” said the old man, slowly; “and besides — 
but no matter for the rest, I think that will do.” 
And shifting uneasily around, as though disturbed 
by the cross examination to which he had been 
subjected, he relapsed into the brown study which 
seemed to be his habitual condition, with the 
evident intention of discouraging any further attempts 
at conversation. 

For the remainder of the way nothing passed 
between the two men until their arrival at the land- 
ing, when, having in vain pressed uponCapt. Austin 
the usual testimonial for that kind of an excursion, 
and having selected a single handsome fish as a 
trophy of the day’s exploits, Robert reached the 
house in ample time for supper, and with an appetite 
to which he had long been a stranger. 


20 


THE ISLANDERS* 


CHAPTER III. 

The following day Robert found himself too stiff 
and sore from the unwonted exertions incident to his 
cruise to care for an immediate repetition of the ex- 
perience, and so spent the greater part of the day on 
the shady veranda, reading, watching the passing 
boats, building castles in Spain and speculating on 
what the summer might have in store for him. 

Not that he expected anything remarkable to come 
to him in this out of the way place, where even the 
summer visitor had n’t penetrated in very considera- 
ble numbers ; but after all it is the unexpected that 
generally happens, as has many times been said, and 
to the youthful mind there is ever present the possi- 
bility of some extraordinary experience which maturer 
life would hardly contemplate. 

Contrary to all precedent, however, “ falling in 
love ” was not one of the possibilities that came 
within the range of his meditations. Young as he 
was, he had already had one love episode which had 
left him saddened, as he believed, forever, although 
the first bitterness of his grief had long since yielded 
to the ameliorating touch of time. He had hardly 
more than come of age, and was in attendance upon 
the course of law lectures with which he had supple- 
mented his college career, when he met the fair 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 21 

young girl who seemed to him the embodiment of 
all womanly graces, and in due time won from her 
lips the blushing avowal that life could hold no 
greater happiness for her than to be his wife. But, 
alas ! hardly had the young lover become accus- 
tomed to the contemplation of his own felicity, 
when death interposed, and Marian Somers went out 
of his life forever. 

This happened more than three years before the 
time of the opening of this story, and, while the first 
keenness of his grief had now become dulled, there 
were moments when his mind recurred with all its 
former sadness to the memory of the fair young girl 
whom he had held in his arms, and whose love had 
warmed his heart, and he felt anew the crushing 
sense of irretrievable loss. 

But he would not allow himself to dwell upon it 
unreasonably, and had long since discovered that to 
a man fairly healthy, and with a tolerable store of 
wordly goods, life with all its disappointments con- 
tains still sufficient enjoyment to make it well worth 
the living. 

Robert had laid aside his book at last, and had 
fallen into a reverie covering some of the lines of 
thought suggested above, when suddenly a faint cry 
called his attention to the water front, and immedi- 
ately his gaze was riveted on a small object evidently 
struggling in the water a few rods from the shore. 
Again the cry, and by this time he was down to the 
nearest pier, and jumped into and was casting off the 
boat first at hand. A few vigorous strokes of the 


22 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


oar (learned at Harvard) brought him to the object’s 
side as it rose for the second time, disclosing a 
fair-haired little boy, apparently about five years 
old, entirely naked, and now utterly exhausted from 
his frantic endeavors to save himself from drown- 
ing. 

Drawing the little fellow into the boat and getting 
back to the landing without loss of time, Robert 
took the little half-dead castaway in his arms and 
ran for the house, where some simple restoratives, 
under Mrs. Owen’s skilful application, soon brought 
the child around, anxious to get out of the bed to 
which he had been committed. 

“Now my little man,” said Robert, encouragingly, 
“how came you in such a fix as I found you in ? ” 

“ I went in swimming. Sister likes me to if I only 
go in as much as that,” indicating a depth of about half 
his little length ; “ but I s’pose I went a little deeper 
this time. I stood up all right, but when I went to 
swim the water carried me way off, and it frightened 
me and I cried. And then you came” — this last 
with a grateful glance at his deliverer. 

“Well, my little chap, all I can say is you’re 
lucky I was mooning my time away on that stoop 
instead of being off on some excursion, as a better 
man would doubtless have been. Even idleness 
has its rewards sometimes. But where are your 
clothes?” 

“I guess they’re on the shore,” said the boy, 
brightly, “near some seaweed. There’s only trow- 
siz and shirt. • I did n’t wear any hat.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


23 


.So back to the shore went Robert, and paced up 
and down the pebbly strand without discovering the 
scant but necessary raiment, until chancing to direct 
his gaze to a point some distance along the beach, 
he descried the missing apparel, caught by the now 
rising tide, and borne along by the coastwise cur- 
rent. 

To rescue the articles from the shallow water was 
an easy matter, but they were, of course, wet 
through, and Robert meditated as he returned to 
the house on how he should array the little found- 
ling for his homeward journey. 

“What's your name, bub?” he inquired, as he 
a°:ain entered the house with his moist bundle. 

“Jimmie,” replied the child as he ruefully eyed 
the wet garments. 

“Jimmie what?” 

“Jimmie Austin.” 

“ And where do you live ? ” 

“Only a little way from here,” said the boy, 
pointing toward the village and a little back from 
the shore. 

“Well,” said Robert, “there seems to be no way 
of getting you home decently but for me to wrap 
you in this blanket and carry you there.” 

And so, suiting the action to the word, the child 
not demurring, the young man wound a blanket 
around the little form, and taking him in his arms 
inarched off in the direction indicated by a small 
brown finger. 

Arrived at the house, the door was opened at 


24 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


their knock by a young girl, who started back in 
dismay as she beheld the bundle which Robert car- 
ried, but quickly recovered as she perceived that the 
object so wrapped and enveloped was alive and un- 
harmed. 

“Where did you find him and how happens it 
that he comes in this plight? ” said the girl, after 
she had invited Lynden to be seated and had seen 
that the boy was in a fair way to get into some dry 
clothes. 

“I fished him out of the water,” said Robert, smil- 
ing, “just as his little strength was about giving out. 
It was n’t deep, but then you know it does n’t take 
much water to drown a chicken of that size. Per- 
mit me, by the way, to introduce myself, — Robert 
Lynden, at your service.” 

The girl’s face flushed as she heard the name, and 
she turned to her visitor with renewed interest. 

“ Then this is the second time you have come to 
our aid. My father has told me of the kind service 
you rendered him in the unfortunate predicament 
in which he was placed a few days ago, and now we 
find ourselves again your debtor.” 

“Don’t mention it, please,” said Lynden, indiffer- 
ently. “I am only too happy to have been of use. 
Fortune,” with a look that met no encouragement in 
the frank gaze of the girl, “ has favored me.” 

A somewhat awkward pause ensuing, the girl 
arose and busied herself unfolding the child’s wet 
garments, and emptying the pockets of the little 
trowsers — disclosing a small wad of rounded and 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


25 


carefully preserved gum, which she regarded with a 
quizzical sidelong glance at Robert, — a fish line, a 
broken-bladed pen-knife, an Indian arrow-head, a 
sinker, and a couple of coppers ; all of which, ex- 
cept the gum, she placed where the boy could find 
them. 

This little by-play gave Lynden an opportunity to 
look about him and observe the scrupulous neatness 
but poverty-stricken appearance of the apartment, 
evidently the “ living room ” of the family ; the ab- 
sence of everything but indispensable articles of 
furniture, and the almost equally comfortless aspect 
of the “ best room ” which he could see through the 
open door. 

But the girl herself claimed his chief attention, 
and with reason. The rich, full tones of the most 
musical voice he seemed ever to have heard had im- 
pressed him with the first words that fell from her 
lips ; and now he perceived that the girl’s whole 
physical personality was entirely in keeping with her 
wonderful voice. That is, he perceived it generally. 
He made no inventory of her attractions at the time, 
and after he had gone, the young man was surprised 
to find that he couldn’t recall any one particular in 
which she surpassed other beautiful women of his 
acquaintance ; and that a vague sense of sombre 
eyes and golden-brown hair, and graceful but digni- 
fied movement, was all that he could carry away 
as his recollection of Elinor Austin. But all the 
same, he knew that she had impressed him differ- 
ently from any woman whom he had ever met. 


26 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Vigorous health was evident in every movement, 
and unconsciousness of her own charms appeared in 
every action. 

Meanwhile little Jim had reappeared, clad in dry 
but much and carefully darned clothing, and hastily 
appropriating his little treasures — with a hurried 
glance for something that he evidently missed — 
was out and away. 

Finding no excuse for lingering longer, Lynden 
now arose to take leave of his hostess, who, recur- 
ring to his rescue of the child, thanked him again 
for the service he had rendered them . 

“ Father would never have got over it if anything 
had happened to the child. He is the very apple of 
his eye,” she went on, in even tones, but with a 
slight flush and with the least suspicion of defiance 
in her voice, as Lynden afterward remembered. 
“ All his life seems bound up in him ; and of 
course he is very dear to me as well.” She then 
added, after a brief hesitation, “Father objects to 
my asking people here, and it is seldom that I care 
to myself. Still, we must not appear unapprecia- 
tive of the kindness you have shown us, and I am 
sure I may venture to say that we shall be glad to 
see you whenever you may be pleased to call.” 

“I cannot assent to the exorbitant estimate you 
place on these trifles,” replied Lynden, seriously ; 
“but I will gladly avail myself of your invitation, 
and will endeavor at the same time not to presume 
upon your good nature, or your father’s patience, by 
inflicting myself too often upon your hospitality.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


27 


And so saying the young man bowed himself out 
of the door and retraced his steps slowly to his 
boarding place, pondering on the circumstances 
which had twice thrown him in the way of these 
people, and wondering if there was in the coinci- 
dence any augury of interest to him. 


28 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER IV. 

Lynden was up betimes the following morning, 
determined to make an early start for the fishing 
grounds if he could find a boatman at liberty to take 
him. A hasty but hearty breakfast despatched, he 
was down to the pier only in time to see his friend 
Austin’s boat disappearing in the distance. Another 
fisherman, however, was just getting under way, and 
assenting readily to the proposition that he take a 
“mate,” Kobert was soon on board and the trim little 
craft pointed for the open water. 

The young man soon discovered that in his new 
skipper he had a companion about as nearly the 
opposite of Capt. Austin as could well be imag- 
ined. “Capt.” Durgin, whose proud boast it was 
that he “eat more tobacker than any other six men 
in the place,” could no more have made a trip to or 
from the fishing ground with his mouth shut than 
Capt. Austin could have beguiled the time spinning 
yarns or retailing gossip. The former was as open 
as the latter was shut, and he kept up a running fire 
of comment and communication, delivered with so 
much evident enjoyment and in such excellent spirit 
that Robert could not but be amused in spite of him- 
self. The “captain” — he got his title by a sort of 
brevet — was not only an expert fisherman, but had 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 29 

been an accomplished pilot, and between the two 
vocations the reminiscences of his active life were 
marvellous in the extreme. 

From the narration of his own exploits the skip- 
per naturally enough got around finally to the con- 
sideration of his brethren in the craft, when Robert 
inquired what he knew of his friend Capt. Austin. 

* Austin?” exclaimed the other. “ I don’t know 
anything about him, and I don’t want to. Crusty 
old duffer ! ” 

“ Is n’t he popular ? ” 

“I don’t know what he is with the other fel- 
lows, but he ain’t popular with me, and don’t you 
forget it.” 

“ Ever injured you ? ” 

“ No ; and I ain’t the man to squeal if he had. It 
ain’t that. I ’ve no use for him. He ’s such an unso- 
ciable cuss that there *s no living with him. When he 
first turned up here about five years ago I undertook to 
be civil with him and kind of make him feel at home ; 
but the way he met me, sir, when I asked him a few 
questions about his family, was a caution. Hang-ed 
if I can’t see him glare now.” 

44 Then he is n’t a native of the place,” said Robert, 
with evident interest. 

44 No,” said the skipper, as he fixed his teeth in a 
huge slab of navy plug, and tore off about a quarter 
of it; “he came here, as I said before, about five 
years ago, with one gal about grown up and a young 
wife and baby, and bought the shanty where he lives 
now, with the few sticks of furniture there was in it, 


30 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


and set up housekeepin’. He seemed to have a little 
money left after payin’ for his house, as near’s we 
could find out by inquirin’ at the stores ’nd round, 
but the sickness and death of his wife left him about 
strapped, and since then I guess it ’s been pretty nigh 
the wind with him all the time. But he ’nd his gal ’s 
so damn stuck up that nobody seems to care much 
whether they sink or swim.” 

“ Do you know anything of his history before he 
came here ? ” 

“Not much,” said the fisherman, regretfully. 
“None of us has been able to get anything out of 
him. But he did tell the man that owns his boat 
that he had been a seafarin’ man all his life, and 
knew all about sailin’ craft, big and little.” 

By this time they were on the fishing ground, and 
were soon having such sport as only big schools of 
hungry bluefish can furnish to the fisher. Hardly 
would the drails get well out before they would be 
seized, and presently a fish would shoot into the air 
as he felt the line drawing on him, and would then 
commence making his reluctant but inevitable prog- 
ress toward the boat. And so on they came for 
two good hours — now skimming along the surface, 
now seeking deliverance by a plunge below — until 
the tide had turned, and a hundred and fifty five- 
pounders lay in the bottom of the staunch little 
craft. 

This day it happened that almost the entire force 
of the east side of the island fished on the same tide, 
and so, with the slacking of the water, the whole 


A ROMANCE" OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


31 


fleet, with one accord, ran down the Chappaquiddic 
shore and swept around the Cape, nearly a hundred 
strong, laying their course thence for Exham, Wex- 
ham and Oak Bluffs. With all sail set, and the 
wind abeam, they presented a most inspiring spec- 
tacle, and Robert could not repress a feeling of 
exhilaration as he found himself a part of this swift- 
flying procession. 

Capt. Durgin had it all his own way, conversa- 
tionally, going home, the labor of the day, his in- 
terest in the impromptu race, and the information 
he had received on the outward passage, all dispos- 
ing his “mate” to non-interference with the skipper’s 
monologue. Only once he ventured, in a rash way, 
to suggest to the captain a nautical manoeuvre by 
which an approaching boat might be distanced. 

“Couldn’t you,” said Robert, “head her a little 
closer by bringing the boom over — so?” 

“Ya-as,” said Durgin; “I did that with the first 
boat I ever owned.” 

“And — ?” incautiously queried Robert. 

“Wa-al,” deliberately, while his twinkling eye 
took in the broad sound and the whole range of 
islands, from Naushon to Penekese, “she upsot.” 


32 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER V. 

As has already been intimated, the village of 
Exham, at the date of the occurrences here nar- 
rated, differed in its society and local institutions 
probably not very much from other localities simi- 
larly situated and of equal age. It had a bank and 
factory, a newspaper and town hall, a dozen stores 
where six would have sufficed, and its three minis- 
ters where there should have been one. It had a 
leading citizen and his humble followers, besides its 
sewing-circles, gossiping women, literary club, and 
Society of Christian Endeavor. 

All these institutions and persons flourished here 
as elsewhere, and all without doubt fulfilled their 
responsible missions as satisfactorily here as any- 
where in the world. The bank transacted business 
peculiar to its kind, and its regular dividend of six 
per cent was pointed to with pride by the natives as 
evidence of the substantial character of their ancient 
burg. The factory, by a career of uniform pros- 
perity, had proved conclusively that manufacturing 
could be as profitably conducted on an island as on 
“dry land.” The newspaper gave currency to local 
events that might otherwise have slumbered in ob- 
livion, and the gossips — in and out of the sewing- 
circles — cheerfully made good any omissions of 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 33 

which the newspaper might have been guilty. The 
stores were like other stores, and each guaranteed 
to furnish a better article at a lower rate than any 
other similar establishment in the town. The min- 
isters preached to one third congregation and two 
thirds empty seats ; lamented the lack of spiritual 
life in their respective charges ; assented with ap- 
parent alacrity to the incursions of occasional evan- 
gelists, and furnished as good sermons as could 
reasonably be expected for “$700 and a donation.” 
When the annual election came around the leading 
citizen prepared his “slate,” which he kindly per- 
mitted the people to ratify. The literary people 
tackled Shakespeare and gave “ entertainments,” 
here as on the continent, and the Society of Chris- 
tian Endeavor laid out for itself broad and compre- 
hensive programmes of social and spiritual reform, 
such as only youthful and chiefly feminine associ- 
ations have the nerve to undertake. 

From all of which it will at once be seen that the 
village of Exham was quite like other small com- 
munities, and had no particular reason for thanking 
God that it was not as other villages are. 

There was one local practice, however, which, 
though not unknown in other regions, is perhaps 
unusual enough to warrant remark, and that was 
the welcoming a new pastor with a public reception 
and address. Such an event was announced a few 
jdays after Lynden’s fishing excursion with Capt. 
Durgin, the occasion being the arrival of the Rev. 
[George Sewell, young and unmarried. A general 


34 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


invitation was extended to all members of the so- 
ciety in interest, and a special request was made to 
such persons of the same faith as might be sojourn- 
ing in the place and should become known to 
the committee of arrangements. Robert and his 
mother, who, through the instrumentality of the 
Owens, had become somewhat acquainted with the 
good people of the town, were among the latter — 
himself accepting, while Mrs. Lynden, who had, or 
professed to have, a constitutional dislike for mis- 
cellaneous assemblages, declined. 

By nine o’clock the parlors of one of the staunch- 
est pillars of the church were filled with members 
and invited friends, and the young parson had taken 
his position at a point of vantage, where arriving 
guests were led up to him, and duly presented by 
the lady of the house who stood at his elbow. If 
the young priest perceived that an unusual propor- 
tion of the advancing host were young women, or 
that their words of greeting were more cordial, and 
the pressure of the hand more lingering than the 
perfunctory salutations usual to such occasions, he 
made no sign, but regarded the young creatures 
brought up for his inspection with smiling gravity, 
and distributed his bows and other acknowledgments 
with unvarying impartiality. 

We say he made no sign, but perhaps that was 
not strictly the case. Once, when a stylish but 
rather “ fresh ” young person was going through her 
paces, dimpling as she approached, and looking up 
from her half-lowered lids with shy, coy glances, 


A ROMANCE *'t>F MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 35 

unconscious that the hope that filled her fluttering 
heart was patent to all observers, the young parson 
caught Lynden’s eye fixed upon him in grave amuse- 
ment, and barely escaped going to pieces on the 
spot. A slight twitching of the muscles about the 
mouth, however, which the young damsel was far 
too preoccupied to perceive, was all that appeared. 

Everybody having been given a chance at the 
minister, a little informal interval ensued, utilized 
by the young ladies in showing themselves off to the 
best advantage — the musical ones at the piano, the 
domestic ones in the preparation of the coming 
“treat,” while the pretty-and-nothing-else ones con- 
tented themselves with hovering about the centre of 
attraction, grouping picturesquely here and there, or 
posing gracefully as opportunity offered. 

Presently the time arrived for the address of 
welcome and the company had begun to dispose 
themselves for most conveniently enjoying it, when 
suddenly symptoms of trouble appeared. A num- 
ber of the sisters were perceived to be in earnest 
and somewhat excited conference, and after a season 
of mild contention bore down upon Lynden, who 
was for the moment standing a little apart from 
the others, and forced him into a corner. 

Then they unfolded to him the burden of their 
woe. They had expected the orator of the evening, 
a bright young native, to arrive from New Bedford 
on the evening boat ; but now a belated message had 
just come to hand saying that he was unavoidably 
detained and they must get along without him. 


36 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“Now, Mr. Lynden,” said the leader, a gay young 
widow, “if you don’t help us we’re in the boat. 
There ’s a plenty here that can kill whales, and catch 
bluefish, and build houses, and do lots of other useful 
things, but not a mother’s son of them that can make 
a speech.” 

“Yes, do help us,” chimed in her first lieutenant, 
a young lady of semi-literary turn. “Just think of 
it. It will be like the play of Hamlet with — per- 
haps not Hamlet, but at least as much as the ghost 
left out.” 

“You’ll have to do it, Mr. Lynden,” declared the 
hostess, now coming up. “I ’ve canvassed the whole 
company, and the men are horror stricken at the bare 
idea.” 

“But consider, ladies,” protested Robert, at the 
first break in the torrent of imploration ; “I haven’t 
given the first thought to the matter, and it is entirely 
out of my ordinary line of disquisition. I should 
make a mess of it.” 

“ No fear of that,” exclaimed the hostess. “ We ’ve 
heard of your impromptu performance in the court 
room, and we know what you’re equal to.” 

“Yes,” said the secretary ; “ everybody was talking 
about it for a week.” 

“ Help, or we perish ! ” sang the widow. 

“Yes ; do ! ” all in concert. 

Thus adjured Robert was fain to yield to the voice 
of supplication, though protesting that it was about 
the hardest place he had been put in yet ; and after 
a minute’s swift meditation approached the spot where 
the minister was standing. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 37 


Encouraged by the expression of sympathy resting 
upon the features of his victim, slightly modified by a 
gleam of quiet amusement lurking in his eye — and 
with a last glance of comical distress at the assembled 
company, Lynden began : — 

“ Dear Pastor and Friend : I find myself in an unu- 
sual and certainly unexpected position to-night, called upon, 
as I have been, to voice to you the welcome and good wishes 
of all these assembled friends. They who have imposed upon 
me this task have taken little thought, I am afraid, as to the 
probable manner of its execution, but like good committee 
women have been chiefly moved by a praiseworthy ambition 
to have no part of their programme miscarry. Let us, then, 
as well-intentioned speaker and lenient listener, stay each 
other through the ordeal thus commenced, while I promise, 
for my part, to remember that in the matter of speech mak- 
ing — unless it be a very superior article — ‘ man wants but 
little here below, nor wants that little long.’ 

u Although, my dear brother, this is not a church council, 
and these remarks are not intended for a charge to the pastor, 
nevertheless — and in view especially of the fact that an ad- 
dress of welcome, pure and simple, has already been extended 
by nearly every person present — a few words of suggestion 
to you upon the threshold of your pastoral connection with 
this people may not be out of place. 

“And, to begin, I am informed that there are about a 
hundred members upon the rolls of this church, representing 
probably fifty families. Assuming that every well-regulated 
household takes both its politics and its theology from the 
head of the house, and that there are only as many differing 
sub-beliefs as there are families, it follows at once that, 
throwing out a fortnight for vacation, your Reverence will 
be able to deliver a discourse adapted to the views of some 
one pair of parishioners for every Sunday in the year. Noth- 
ing could be simpler or more practical, and the first year of 


38 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


your pastorate may well be employed in ascertaining the 
various shades of belief of your fifty families. 

“ Again, you will find it desirable in a community like 
this to cultivate habits of sociability, and of easy and familiar 
intercourse with the members of your charge; and I speak 
especially now of your male parishioners. To that end you 
will find it important to drop in occasionally at the grocery 
lyceum, the clothier’s sanctum, some of the places where the 
public business is transacted, and to be at the post-office a 
little ahead of the opening of the mail. I would not advise 
too much of this, lest, peradventure, the public sense be 
outraged, and the people wag their heads and say, ‘ Behold 
this loafer! ’ But it is equally important not to err on the 
other side, lest they say, ‘ Behold this exclusive and holier- 
than-thou person, who holdeth himself aloof.’ I may add in 
passing, that the bicycle, as an item of the ministerial outfit, 
may be regarded as at best of doubtful utility. 

“ In your intercourse with the sisters, likewise, there will 
be an opportunity for the exercise of that wise discretion 
which should be a part of the clerical equipment. The 
younger sisters will want advice and encouragement. See 
that they have plenty of the former, and the latter at proper 
times, and with due regard to the connection and occasion. 
They will want sympathy in their yearnings after the un- 
attainable, and due direction in their heart’s desires. I but 
suggest the rocks and shoals over which you must be your 
own pilot in these uncertain waters, and gladly hasten to 
consider your relations to the maturer members of your 
feminine charge. 

u And here I may say that, with the wives and mothers in 
Israel, your chief concern will be as to the manner of your 
pastoral visitations, and how much and how little you will 
break bread at their table. With some, the greatest com- 
pliment you can pay them will be a habit of ‘ dropping 
in,’ in season and out of season, and, if the board happens to 
be spread, of addressing yourself thereto as a member of the 
family. There are others who will want six weeks’ notice of 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 39 

your coming. To discover in which of these classes your 
housewife parishioners should be catalogued, you should 
address yourself with diligence, and the solution of the prob- 
lem may well receive your careful attention for at least the 
first year of your pastorate. 

u Other suggestions might properly enough be offered 
here, but I am already too long. Let me say in conclusion 
that we are all conscious of the solemnity of the relation into 
which you and we have now entered. Some of us you may 
bury; some of us you may join in marriage; others of us you 
may unite with the church; with all of us you will sustain 
more or less intimate relations. Out of this connection now 
so auspiciously entered upon, to the evident satisfaction of 
this whole society, let us hope there may result nothing but 
good to the church and community, and honor to Him in 
whose name you are come.” 

The young clergyman was equal to the emergency. 
Although he had anticipated the usual cut-and-dried 
address, characteristic of such occasions, he had 
had time to throw overboard some of the heavy 
matter with which he had come loaded, and to attune 
his thoughts to the lighter lay suggested by Lynden’s 
remarkable “charge.” He accepted the suggestions 
submitted by the spokesman of the society, and 
promised to give them his careful, if not prayerful 
consideration. He besought the kind indulgence of 
his parishioners, while endeavoring to adjust himself 
to their wishes in the various relations indicated by 
his good brother, and begged that they would not be 
backward in coming to his rescue whenever they saw 
him in danger of transgressing any of the rules laid 
down for his direction. And then, coming down to 
the spirit manifested in the closing sentences of 


40 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Lynden’s address, he said a few earnest words of 
appreciation of the compliment paid him and of 
hopefulness for the success of his pastorate, and so 
brought the little ceremonial to an appropriate close. 

The successful issue of what at one time promised 
to be a lamentable failure left the company in high 
good humor, and the committee could hardly find 
words to express their delight. They almost de- 
voured Robert in their frantic efforts to make known 
their gratitude, and that young gentleman was only 
too happy when the signal for refreshments gave a 
new direction to the thoughts and energies of his 
admirers. This also came to an end at last, and 
after a little more music and an innocuous game or 
two the party broke up, and old and young, the girls 
as they assumed their wraps, sending many a wistful 
glance to where the two heroes of the evening stood, 
dispersed to their several abodes. 

Robert remained a while for a little quiet conver- 
sation with his entertainers and Mr. Sewell, and then 
took his leave, promising himself no little pleasure 
from the acquaintance with the young clergyman, in 
so novel a manner begun. 

As he stepped out on to the street a figure flitted 
past him which struck him as being familiar, while at 
the same time a stream of light from a window dis- 
closed the face of the fisherman’s daughter. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


41 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ Miss Austin ! ” 

The figure stopped, hesitated, and then turned. 

“ Forgive me for stopping you with so little cere- 
mony, 5 ’ said Robert ; “ but as the hour is so late, and 
the way so dark, J thought you might be glad of an 
escort home. Besides,” he continued, as she silently 
accepted his arm, “ I ’ve made so many vain attempts 
to see you since my first appearance with Jimmie, 
that I could n’t bring myself to forego this oppor- 
tunity. 

“ I am sorry,” said the girl, nervously, evidently 

disturbed out of the composure of manner which had 

so impressed him in their first interview. “ I would 

have been glad to see you, but — I had miscalculated 

my father’s feeling. He was not angry with me, and 

his gratitude for your timely aid in rescuing the 

child was not less than I had assured you it would 

be. But there was such an expression of distress on 

his countenance when I told him you were likely to 

call again that I hastened to assure him that it should 
© 

not occur oftener than need be. You can not know, 
Mr. Lynden,” continued the girl, “why he so dreads 
my forming acquaintances, and I can hardly well 
enlighten you.” 

Robert made no reply to this. In truth he hardly 


42 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


heard her. He was too busy trying to analyze his 
own feelings as he felt this sensitive — though appar- 
ently lowly — creature’s hand on his arm and listened 
again to her rich voice, to follow very closely what 
she was saying. 

He was only conscious that in some way he had 
been prevented from visiting her, and that she was 
now endeavoring to offer some explanation of it. 
And from that moment the desire to know her more 
intimately took full possession of his soul. 

“If I had supposed it was likely to subject you to 
any embarrassment,” he said gently, “ I should n’t 
have attempted to call. And if you say now that it 
will be distasteful to you I’ll seek opportunity no 
further.” 

“No, no!” replied the girl, quickly, and with al- 
most a suspicion of pain in her voice ; “ I cannot so 
belie my own feelings as to say that ; and besides, 
the black ingratitude of it is more than I can bear. If 
I could explain you would understand. Though I can’t 
believe that the explanation would be important” — 

“You mistake me very much,” interrupted Lyn- 
den, earnestly, “ if you think it a matter of no im- 
portance to me ; and I hope it may not be entirely 
without interest to you. I have been impressed by 
the insistence with which circumstances seem to have 
conspired to bring us together, and can only feel that 
fate never would have taken so much trouble to make 
us acquainted only to consent that immediately we 
should go our ways like any other two who had met 
by chance.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


43 


“And yet,” said Miss Austin, “it would perhaps 
be better so. My father’s strong disinclination to my 
forming intimacies must always stand between them 
and me. And how can friendships be blessed that 
are cultivated in the face of a parent’s dissent ? ” 

“ And yet, does n’t it strike you as a little hard that 
a young woman like you should be condemned to live 
the life of a recluse merely to humor an old man’s 
whim ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” cried the girl reprovingly ; “ I can’t have 
even you speak in that way of my father. You little 
know how he has suffered, nor how dearly I love 
him. Yes,” she continued ; “it is a quiet life, but I 
have grown not to mind it, or to expect anything bet- 
ter. If only my father is saved any new worries, 
and Jimmie is fed and clothed, I am content.” 

“But do you never long for anything different — 
for the advantages which you must forego in this 
out-of-the-way place, and for the social pleasures 
from which even here you seem to be debarred ? ” 

“Sometimes, but not to dwell upon it. And then 
you must remember that since I have been old 
enough to think about it it has been as you see. I 
miss nothing that I have been accustomed to since a 
child.” 

“Would you mind telling me something about 
yourself — your history ? ” said Kobert, hesitatingly. 
“Believe me, it is from no idle curiosity that I speak, 
but for the interest that I feel in your situation, 
and the honest desire that I have to do something to 
better it.” 

For a moment there was no reply. 


44 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“There is almost nothing to tell. We came here 
from New York a few years ago. Business reverses 
had previously overtaken my father, followed by fits 
of despondency and consequent ill health, and he 
finally decided to realize what little he could from 
the remnant of property remaining to him, and 
come to this island. In the delicate state of her 
health the journey was too much for Jimmie’s 
mother, — Jimmie is not my full brother, my own 
mother died before I can remember, — and her death, 
soon after we reached this place, left my father more 
depressed than ever. But here we have been ever 
since, very much as you see us, and here doubtless 
we shall remain, — at least, as long as my father 
lives.” 

By the time Miss Austin had finished this brief 
recital they had reached the fisherman’s dwelling, 
through the uncovered window of which the old 
man could be seen sitting at a table, his head resting 
on his hand, and his whole attitude indicative of the 
deepest dejection. 

The sight seemed to arouse in the girl a sense of 
neglected duty, or trust betrayed; and suddenly 
dropping her companion’s arm, and hardly waiting to 
hear his acknowledgment of her confidence, she dis- 
appeared in the house. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


45 


CHAPTER VII. 

Capt. Austin looked up as his daughter entered, 
his countenance marked not so much with displeas- 
ure as with a deepening of the depression that neve r 
left it. 

“You are late, my child.” 

“Yes, father; Mrs. Harding kept me until she 
was satisfied that the work was done according to 
direction, and that took some time. She is liberal 
and just, but very particular that her instructions 
shall be carried out.” 

“ Was there no other reason for your tardiness ? ” 

“ Yes, father ; I was coming to that. As I came 
by Mr. Crocker’s on my return, I met Mr. Lynden 
just leaving the reception, and I could not without 
rudeness decline his escort, particularly as our ways 
lay so nearly in the same direction. And, after all, 
father, what was the harm — except that we must 
come more slowly than if I had been alone, and so, 
perhaps, made you anxious? ” 

“Aye, child, I was anxious; and it seems to me 
there ’s never a moment that I am otherwise.” 

“ But, father,” said the girl slowly, “ do you never 
think what this excessive solicitude concerning me 
indicates ? Has it never occurred to you that it be- 
tokens a lack of confidence that is not very flattering 
to me ? ” 


46 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“ No, Elinor,” said the old man, more gently than 
was his wont ; “ I have never thought of it in that 
light, and 'it does n’t seem to me necessary that you 
should think of it so. But I know how readily a 
lonely woman’s heart often responds to new and con- 
genial influences, even though her conduct is not a 
whit governed thereby, and I dread the time when 
your own heart may turn unconsciously to one who 
will not care for its keeping.” 

“But, father,” returned the daughter, flushing 
slightly ; “ why are you so certain that I am not 
likely to be sought with earnestness of purpose as 
well as other young women ? ” 

“Because, my child, of our situation and history. 
Retired and unobtrusive as we are, I know we are 
looked at askance by those we meet, and that this 
feeling of suspicion, together with our poverty, will 
always keep you beyond the range of any sincere 
suitor whose pretensions would be considered by 
you. And even were a stranger to come, and ask 
no questions, you know that your own sense of 
honor would not permit you to accept his addresses 
without first acquainting him with the truth.” 

Elinor Austin was silent for a few moments. She 
was wondering at first how far her father had spoken 
his whole heart when he had said that his only fear 
was that her affections might be bestowed where 
they were not honestly asked for, and next, whether 
or not his own bitter experience had cheapened his 
estimate of the virtue of all women. And then, 
turning for a moment’s self-introspection, and trying 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 47 

to sound the depths of her own nature, she felt the 
proud consciousness that however hotly the currents 
of love might throb through her being, there was no 
conceivable exigency in life in which she would not 
prove full mistress of herself. 

And then she said : — 

“It seems to me, father, that from whatever point 
of view considered, your solicitude is uncalled for, 
and you are only disturbing yourself without occa- 
sion. I have no desire to go out of my way to form 
acquaintances, but it does n’t seem as though we 
could always go on keeping aloof from everybody.” 

“Perhaps not,” said the fisherman, doubtingly. 
“But it seems as though there was safety in no other 
course.” Then, after a moment’s silence, — “Did 
Lynden say anything about having called, or calling 
again?” 

“ He said he had endeavored to call, but no one 
ever appeared to be at home. And I finally had to 
tell him frankly that I knew his coming — anybody’s 
coming — would be so distasteful to you that I had 
purposely kept out of the way.” 

“ Which I suppose he thinks a poor return for his 
kindness to us? ” 

“ He did n’t say so, but, on the contrary, declared 
with evident sincerity that if we really desired it he 
would make no further attempt to continue the 
acquaintance. But that I could hardly bring myself 
to say, and could only suggest that we think no 
more about it then, and so we left it.” 

“I cannot bear to have a gentleman — and he cer- 


48 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


tainly is one — think me such a boor as well as 
ingrate,” exclaimed the captain, beside himself as to 
what course to pursue ; “ and perhaps I am only 
needlessly borrowing trouble. I will at any rate 
not restrain you by any instructions in the matter, 
trusting to circumstances and your own good sense 
to carry you through.” 

And, having kissed his daughter good night, a 
weakness in which he now-a-days seldom indulged, 
Capt. Austin took a lamp and strode moodily off to 
bed. And Elinor in turn, after securing the doors 
as was her practice, went to her own room, where 
after a glance at Jimmie sleeping in his crib, and 
having imprinted a warm kiss upon the childish lips, 
she sought the repose which her young but tired 
body so much needed. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


49 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Elinor retired to rest, but not to sleep. Over 
and over she lived again the brief hour of her walk 
through the evening shades with Robert Lynden ; 
heard again the quiet, earnest tones of his musical 
voice ; yielded again to the sweet influence which 
pervaded her as she felt the tenderness of his man- 
ner and the respectful deference which characterized 
his whole behavior towards her. Not that she felt 
herself to be what is generally termed “in love” 
with this almost utter stranger, but there came to 
her thoughts and emotions which had been unknown, 
and a sense of willing weakness to which the self- 
reliant girl had ever been a stranger. As she re- 
called the singular solicitude manifested by her father 
in respect of this young man, she hid her burning 
face in her pillow, realizing at the same time how 
foolish were his fears and how utterly groundless 
his deep concern. And so in alternations of self- 
questioning and abandonment to gentler currents of 
thought, hour after hour passed away, until at last 
she fell into a troubled sleep, to dream of her father, 
and Robert, and little Jim, all thrown together in a 
chaos of inter-relations. 

With the morning she was up betimes and busy 
at her accustomed duties, with an unaccustomed 


50 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


lightness of heart, and a new zest in living, for 
which she did not ask herself the reason. Her 
father, self-absorbed and depressed as always, noted 
nothing unusual in her demeanor, and ate his break- 
fast and strode away with his lunch-pail without a 
sign. But Jimmie opened his eyes in astonishment 
at an unexpected hug bestowed upon him by his 
usually undemonstrative sister, and when, as he was 
about starting off to his play, she drew him to her 
and pressed a warm kiss on either cheek, he could 
not refrain from expressing his childish wonder. 

“Why, sister, what makes you love me so this 
morning? ” 

“Don’t I always love you, Jimmie?” 

“Yes; but you seem different to-day, and your 
cheeks are so red, and your eyes shine.” 

“I don’t believe I can explain it to you, child. 
Indeed, I doubt if I know myself. If I ever find 
out for certain I will tell you.” And with this 
answer the boy had to be content, and went his 
way out into the glad sunshine. 

All the morning, Elinor went singing about her 
work — she whose lips had seemed to be hermeti- 
cally sealed except when occasion demanded that they 
open — and when along toward noon a messenger 
arrived from the village with a package of books and 
papers, the glad light that illumined her countenance 
indicated that she had divined the sender even before 
reading the brief note that accompanied the gift. 

It was only a line, to say that while his personal 
presence might not be desirable (for the reasons she 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 51 

had given), he trusted that these might serve in some 
small measure to relieve the monotony of her life. 
He also added that if not rebuffed in this he would, 
perhaps, venture to repeat the performance as often 
as it was likely to prove acceptable to her. 

Like any other woman, Elinor could but be pleased 
with this little attention ; and the delicate way in 
which it was proffered could not, if Eobert had so 
intended it, have been better chosen to overcome the 
girl’s pride and break down the barrier of reserve 
which she had felt it incumbent upon her to rear 
between them. 

It was a miscellaneous lot of literature that Elinor 
found on opening the bundle — evidently the collec- 
tion of one not quite certain of his ground, and not 
altogether clear as to what would be likely to find 
favor with the object of its bestowal. Shrewdly 
guessing, however, that the girl’s opportunities for 
mental culture had been somewhat limited in her later 
years, though little suspecting how utter had been 
her isolation from all means of self-improvement, 
Eobert had for the most part carefully avoided such 
matter as he feared might only weary, and possibly 
inspire an aversion to reading, and had as a result 
got together an assortment of fact, fiction and po- 
etry — bright, clear, and wholesome, but in the main 
calculated to entertain rather than instruct. 

A stolen glance at her treasures that night helped 
Elinor to peaceful slumber, and she fell asleep with 
happy thoughts, in spite of one line that had caught 
her eye, and recurred to her mind again and again : 

“ Had they never met so kindly.” 


52 


THE ISLANDERS; 


CHAPTER IX. 

Weeks slipped away, with little of incident to 
vary the monotony of island life. The villages of 
Exham and Wexham maintained their well-earned 
reputation for tranquillity and repose, and even at the 
Bluffs, where were congregated the great body of 
summer sojourners, the days were very much alike. 
There was the almost unvarying round of reading, 
smoking, and flirting on the shady verandas, the 
daily drives to Katama, Tashmoo, or Lagoon Heights, 
the boating, bathing, and fishing — and last, but far 
from least, the evening assemblage at the landing to 
witness the arrival of the steamers. All these, en- 
joyable enough as experiences, furnish little enter- 
tainment in the recital, and but little material to the 
narrator of events, pure and simple. 

To-day, however, there was a somewhat unusual 
occurrence in the form of a yacht race, by the New 
York squadron, which had arranged to make the run 
from Newport to Oak Bluffs, and then to find harbor 
along the island coast at will. 

The whole population, permanent and transient, 
was agog over the anticipated event, the great major- 
ity little suspecting the disappointment so largely in 
store for them. 

For be it known, a yacht race by craft of varying 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 53 

measurements is one of the most inspiring spectacles 
at the start, and one of the most disappointing enter- 
tainments at the finish, that has yet been devised by 
the mind of man. And it was, of course, the finish 
only that the thousands congregated on the piers, the 
Sea View verandas and the plank walk, were per- 
mitted to see, and that when they were scarce aware 
of it. All the afternoon now and again a sail would 
be descried on the horizon, or perhaps two of them, 
standing up the sound, and then a mile or two behind 
one or two more, — some of which would, on exam- 
ination, prove to be honest coasters, — and would 
pass on up by the chops, or drop into the harbor of 
Exham or Wexham as the case might be. And so 
the afternoon waxed and waned, and the tired multi- 
tude strained its eyes, and stood on one foot to rest 
the other, vainly watching for the magnificent pag- 
I eant and the cloud of white wings which in imagi- 
nation it had so fondly pictured. 

But after all the race was not without its compen- 
sations. After the last yacht had passed by, and the 
1 crowds had dispersed from their various points of 
observation, there was the supper at the Sea View, 
the cigar on the veranda, or the drive homeward 
through the hush of evening, and best of all, the re- 
port in the morning papers, which you mailed liber- 
| ally to your friends with a postal card notifying them 
that you were there. 

Robert and the young clergyman had driven over 
to see the race, and had found seats in the shade of 
the pavilion, far down the plank walk, and where 


54 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


they were undisturbed by the crowd which centred 
farther up the bluff. Robert had seized upon little 
Jimmie down by the shore near hi^ home, and having 
sent him to ask his sister’s permission, which was 
readily accorded, had given him the luxury of a beach 
drive. 

They had sat for some time in silence, Robert pull- 
ing placidly at a cigar and both men gazing dreamily 
out on the tranquil waters, while Jimmie played about, 
when the former broke the stillness by suddenly 
asking : — 

“ Sewell, were you ever in love?” 

“Yes,” responded the other, lightly : “ half a dozen 
times.” 

“Yes, but I mean a real absorbing passion, that 
seemed to crowd out everything else.” 

“And so do I. That was the kind I had every 
time,” insisted the young divine. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Robert in astonishment ; “ do 
you mean to say that every one of those fancies took 
such complete hold upon you that it was your life 
while it lasted, entered into all your motives and 
actions, was your meat and your drink, and colored 
and controlled your life for the time being ? ” 

“ Just that.” 

“ Well,” said Robert, doubtfully, “ I must of course 
take you at your word. But perhaps I may at least 
be permitted to express my surprise.” 

“And you would like to add, I suppose, that you 
had hardly expected to hear such a relation of expe- 
riences from a clergyman ? ” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 55 

14 Yes, if it would not be rude.” 

“Well, I’ll overlook that, and consider it said. 
And now for my justification. One of course can 
judge only by one’s own experience and observation. 
I confess that ever since my boyhood I have been 
falling in love and falling out. For one reason and 
another — first of course because of the absurdity of 
it, and afterwards because of my comparative poverty 
and other considerations — none of my predilections 
seemed to “ materialize ” as the mediums say, and 
one after another came to an end and left me as I 
believed inconsolable. And yet after a while the first 
sharpness of grief would wear away, leaving a burden 
of heaviness and sense of loss which would gradually 
grow lighter and less, and finally perhaps change of 
scene would complete the cure, or a new interest 
efface the old one. I am speaking of course of loss 
in life ; what might have been my experience had 
death intervened I am unable to say. And perhaps 
I am not yet old enough to speak of these things from 
the standpoint of full maturity. But this is my belief 
— and I know I shall jar on your fastidious sense of 
the way things ought to be : outside of kinship the 
direction or disposition of the affections is largely 
controlled by circumstances. A young man goes to 
live in Boston, and marries a very different sort of a 
woman from the one who would have become his wife 
if he had happened to select New York. Or the fact 
of his living on the east side of a village instead of 
the west may control his destiny. With many a man 
it ’s the first girl that throws a glance over her shoul- 


56 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


der at him that does the business, and considerations 

of neighborhood and opportunity enter largely into 

the solution of the problem every time.” 

“Then,” says Robert, “you are not a believer in 

the doctrine that marriages are made in heaven?” 

“ No ; there are too many facts that militate against 

it. Look at the great majority of married couples 

who have come under your own observation. Take 

the people with whom I am living now, or those with 

whom you are quartered, or any others you please, 

and nine cases out of ten you find what? If not 

open and notorious disagreement, you find a sort of 

agreement to disagree, a settling down into a kind 

of bear-and-forbear condition, which perhaps, from 

long discipline, has almost ceased to be irksome, but 

which is as far removed from a heaven-born arran^e- 

© 

ment as the darkness from the light. No, my dear 
fellow ; men choose their wives, under the limita- 
tions already suggested — they are not chosen for 
them — and heaven has the same hand in it that it 
has in ordering the conduct of men in any other of 
the relations of life.” < 4 

“ What ! ” said Robert ; “ do you mean that men 
select their wives as they do a horse or a house?” 

“No,” replied the parson ; “because the element of 
passion enters into the former transaction, and is, of 
course, absent from the latter. But I mean that so 
far as the intervention of any supernatural agency is 
concerned, there is no difference. A man meets a 
woman, and soon discovers that she exerts an attrac- 
tive influence upon him, — not the same kind of an 


A ROMANCE OP MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 57 

influence that a satisfactory house or horse exerts, 
but nevertheless as personal to her, and as indepen- 
dent of any heavenly direction, as in the case of the 
other objects of desire I have mentioned. It is a 
matter between him and her, to be settled by them 
without supernatural assistance, and, as in other 
affairs, fully as likely to be settled wrong as right.” 

“ I may assume, then, that you see no difficulty in 
the way of one who has loved and lost, loving again, 
with equal fervor and sincerity as before.” 

“Yes, you may assume that. I do not mean to 
say that this is always so. I have no doubt that in 
the case of certain sensitive and imaginative natures, 
the impression produced by the first passion is so 
strong that neither time, nor absence, nor change of 
scene is able to efface it. If life be left, the fire on 
the altar may for a time appear to have grown dim 
under the influence of separation and new interests, 
only to flash forth with greater intensity should cir- 
cumstances repeat themselves and the old conditions 
be restored. But what I have said, I have said of 
the generality of mankind, of the unimpressionable 
natures that we see about us, and that constitute 
nineteen twentieths of the human family. 

“ Now I am aware,” continued the minister, gravely, 
as his companion remained silent, “ that what I have 
said might sound very loose and heterodox to many 
people to whom I might have addressed it, and there 
are very few, for instance, of my own parishioners, to 
whom I should have ventured to deliver myself so 
freely for fear of being misunderstood. But you 


58 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


will have observed, if you have followed me at all 
closely, that, after all, nothing I have said conflicts 
with the principles of that religion which I have un- 
dertaken to teach, and is only a perhaps somewhat 
unattractive statement of things as they actually 
are.” 

While this conversation was going on Jimmie had 
been playing about in the vicinity, running down the 
bank to the shore, “ skipping” stones and shells over 
the surface of the water, and amusing himself in the 
ways peculiar to his age. 

As the minister ceased speaking Robert’s attention 
was drawn to the movements of a man who had 
strolled along the beach to a point where Jimmie was 
playing, just in front of them, and had paused and 
was evidently watching the child. Perceiving that 
his scrutiny had been observed by the persons on the 
bank he continued his walk, but presently turned 
and retraced his steps to the same spot and evidently 
engaged the boy in conversation for a moment, then 
after a lingering look passed on. He was a fine 
looking man, dressed in well-fitting gray, and with 
one of the most melancholy and careworn faces Rob- 
ert remembered ever to have seen. 

“There goes a man,” said he, turning to his com- 
panion, “ who might make one of the few exceptions 
of life-long constancy to a lost love whom you ad- 
mitted might exist.” 

“Yes,” replied the other, slowly. “lean easily 
believe him to go sorrowing all his days for one who 
is lost from earth, or at least lost to him. I never 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 59 

saw such an expression of settled melancholy and on 
so noble a face.” 

Just then Jimmie came up to where they were 
sitting and Robert interrogated him. 

“ Who was the gentleman who spoke to you just 
now ? * 

“ I don’t know,” replied the boy wonderingly. 

“Did he think he knew you?” 

“ I don’t know. He looked at me hard, then he 
asked my names.” 

“ And you told him ? ” 

“Yes,” said the boy, brightly; “and he kind of 
started, so” (making an expressive gesture), “and 
then asked me where I lived, and if my father and 
mother were living. And I said that mamma was dead 
and that I lived over in the next town with papa and 
sister. And then he looked kind of disappointed 
and gave me this ” — showing a bright piece of silver 
— “and went away.” 

Neither Robert nor Sewell seemed specially im- 
pressed by the incident, and after supper and a walk 
through the city of cottages in the cool of the even- 
ing the three returned to their village, well pleased 
with the day’s diversions. 

The episode of the stranger’s interview with 
Jimmie had faded from Robert’s mind by the time 
he had found his couch, but the young clergyman’s 
remarks on love and constancy, though far from 
receiving his indorsement in all respects, occupied 
his thoughts far into the night. 


60 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER X. 

The members of the Ladies’ Literary League had 
been taking tea at Squire Crocker’s handsome resi- 
dence, and were now seated on their host’s broad 
veranda discussing such matters of feminine interest 
as any of them chanced to introduce. 

“By the way, girls,” cried Miss Guppy, a spark- 
ling young maiden of forty-seven summers, “ what ’s 
become of that handsome Mr. Lynden, who created 
such a furor at the minister’s reception?” 

“I don’t know, for one,” said Dorothy Cleveland, 
with a look of sublime indifference ; “and that isn’t 
the worst of it.” Miss Cleveland was the bachelor 
Squire’s niece, rather a distinguished looking young 
lady, and the hostess for this occasion. 

“For him, I suppose you mean,” volunteered 
Grace North, the acknowledged belle of the village. 

“ As you please,” returned Miss Cleveland. “ How- 
ever, I presume he isn’t suffering, and I don’t see 
anybody in this company who appears to be really 
pining.” 

“ No, indeed ! ” in emphatic chorus. 

“Still,” resumed the first speaker, with sweet in- 
sistence, “ it does seem a pity that so gifted and 
attractive a young man should bestow his society 
altogether on the winds and waves, to the utter 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 61 

neglect of those of his kind with whom he might 
find congenial companionship.” 

“I don’t know just how you would apply the 
words ‘kind’ and ‘congenial,’” exclaimed Puss 
Taber, a saucy little flirt with a heart of gold, and 
to the influence of whose charms young Parson Sew- 
ell was believed to have been not altogether imper- 
vious ; “ but if you mean that he is denying himself 
all feminine society you are away off.” 

“ You don’t mean it ! ” all fortissimo. 

“Yes, I do,” cries little Missy gleefully; “and 
you ’ll be even more surprised when I tell you who 
is the lady.” 

‘ Do tell us quickly, — don’t keep us in suspense,” 
implored Miss Guppy, with a most engaging anxiety. 

“Yes, let’s hear the worst and have it over” — 
chorus. 

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the little Taber, pro- 
ceeding with evident enjoyment of her task ;“ it ’s 
Elinor Austin, over on the bluff. Nobody knows of 
his being there very much in person, but he has sent 
her no end of fruit and bundles of books, and seems 
to have almost adopted that little boy.” 

“Another illustration of the truth that there’s no 
accounting for tastes,” remarked Miss North, with a 
half rising inflection ; “and she’s welcome to him.” 

“I’m not so sure of there being anything unac- 
countable in this case,” replied Puss, brushing a 
refractory crimp from her eye. “ I must say Miss 
Austin is one of the queenliest looking girls that I 
ever saw. If she ’s as intelligent and agreeable as 


62 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


she is striking in appearance I don’t wonder at his 
being attracted.” 

“I suppose she’s well enough looking,” admits 
the bi-centenarian, adjusting the ruffle around her 
rather skinny wrist; “but under all the circum- 
stances I should have supposed that a fastidious 
gentleman such as Mr. Lynden appears to be would 
hardly have considered the acquaintance desirable.” 

“What circumstances?” cried Penelope Hoyt, 
rushing to Miss Taber’s rescue. Miss Hoyt did n’t 
care anything about Elinor Austin, but she was one 
of those uncomfortable people who are much given 
to disputations, though she was exempt from the 
still more unpleasant propensity for making unim- 
portant corrections which some women appear to 
revel in ; and she no sooner perceived that somebody 
was being attacked than she rose to the occasion. 

“What circumstances?” simpered Miss Guppy, 
with elevated eye-brows. “Really, my dear, there 
are some things which one can hardly discuss. I 
should suppose that the sight of that baby that the 
old man calls his son would be sufficient to deter 
particular people from cultivating the family very 
much ! ” 

“I see nothing peculiar about it whatever,” 
snapped Penelope. “The boy’s mother was a sec- 
ond wife and a good deal younger than her husband, 
and that’s all there is about it as far as I can see.” 

“George — I mean Mr. Sewell,” stammered Miss 
Taber, “ says they seem to fairly idolize the child. 
The old man sets his eyes by him.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA^ VINEYARD. 63 

* Speaking of Mr. Sewell,” said the hostess, deftly 
changing the subject, “he and Mr. Lynden seem to 
be great friends. What time he can spare from his 
pastoral duties, — or at least a good deal of it,” 

— with a glance at Miss Pussy, “ he is with Mr. 
Lynden, riding, sailing, or wandering off afoot.” 

“I don’t think it looks very well,” objected Miss 
Hoyt, promptly. “Mr. Lynden is n’t at all religious 

— he is even accused of being an atheist — and his 
influence cannot be very advantageous to a minister.” 

“ I imagine,” says Miss Cleveland, in her tranquil 
manner, "that Mr. Sewell is not in any special 
danger from anybody’s influence, at least among the 
men. He seems to me a man eminently able to 
take care of himself. Moreover, he perhaps hopes 
to benefit his friend after a while.” 

At this point the object of this discussion made 
his appearance, accompanied by other male friends, 
and an adjournment inside was had for music and 
other diversions. 

It was observed, however, that the clergyman and 
Miss Taber lingered outside for a moment to observe 
a peculiar effect of the now rising moon. 


64 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER XI. 

Mr. Owen, Lynden’s landlord, was chairman of 
the School Committee of Exham, a board, by the 
way, about as singularly constituted as could be 
found in any small town in the country. Besides 
Mr. Owen, whose personality has already been re- 
ferred to, and which was perhaps not characterized 
by any striking peculiarity, there were two other 
members, both of whom are worthy of more than a 
passing notice. 

Gideon Shore, the member for the outlying dis- 
trict, was as contradictory in his make-up as could 
well be imagined. Of slender frame and the coun- 
tenance of an advanced consumptive, he was re- 
ported to be possessed of herculean strength and the 
courage of a lion. Of refined taste and considerable 
culture, he was a complete despot in his house, and 
the terror of most of those who were compelled to 
have anything to do with him. 

He would come forth from his well-stocked li- 
brary, for instance, where he had passed an agreeable 
hour with his favorite authors and the latest current 
literature, and proceed to slaughter a calf whose 
head he would make his wife hold while he applied 
the knife. 

In all the relations of life these contradictory 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 65 

phases presented themselves, until the most studious 
observer was at his wit’s end to know what estimate 
to place on so incongruous a character. 

The third member was a superannuated old gen- 
tleman, a childless widower, once a physician, who 
was living now on the residue of his professional 
savings, supplemented by such stray bits of public 
patronage as chanced to fall to his lot. In committee 
matters he was great in little things, and little in 
great things, and was chiefly valuable as a concurrer 
with the chairman. 

And here it may be remarked that there is no 
more useful quality in a committeeman who is not 
adapted to leadership, than a faculty for readily 
coinciding with the views of more positive and 
aggressive members. By virtue of this delightful 
quality inherent in his associates some one strong 
j spirit is enabled to hold a considerable body of men 
| well in hand, friction and contention are avoided, and 
everything proceeds pleasantly and harmoniously to 
a felicitous conclusion. 

This singularly compounded committee held a 
meeting at the house of the chairman, a few days 

I after the literary social already mentioned, to con- 
sider the matter of the reassignment of teachers to the 
several schools in the township — a number of resig- 
nations and one or two removals having reduced the 
jcorps of instructors to a scant complement, and 
(necessitated likewise a new distribution. 

The meeting was held in the “ front room ” below, 
inear an open window of which Robert sat smoking 
loutside. 


66 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


The associate committeemen having arrived, and 
the usual social interchanges having been accom- 
plished, the chairman perfunctorily announced the 
object of the meeting, at the same time producing 
from a drawer in a desk a bundle of applications. 

“ Taking the requests in the order of the schools 
to which they relate,” said the chairman, “I will read 
first the application of Mr. T. W. Tilden, who asks 
for reappointment to the position of principal of the 
Grammar School, and is the only one so applying. 
What do you say to that, gentlemen?” 

“This is what I say to it,” said Gideon Shore, in a 
rasping voice : “ he don’t half earn his money, and 
he sits up nights working for newspapers. No man 
can serve two masters,” he added, piously. 

“ True,” replied the chairman, temporizingly ; “ he 
ought to consider that his first obligation is to the 
town which employs him, and that private interests 
must not be permitted to interfere with the proper 
performance of a public duty. We are bound to 
remember, however, that by reason of his residence 
here Mr. Tilden is enabled to do the work at a 
considerably lower rate of compensation than a man 
called here expressly for the purpose, and that also 
it is the general belief that the school has never 
been better conducted than under his administration. 
Perhaps we ought to consider these things, Neighbor 
Shore ? ” 

“P’r’aps,” snapped the picturesque granger, shaken 
a little by the allusion to the difference in wages. 
“ But when a man wants to work for me my motto 


A romance}' of Martha’s vineyard. 67 

is, ‘take it or leave it; you’re either my man or 
somebody else’s ! ’ ” 

“What’s your opinion, doctor?” said the chair- 
man now, as a matter of form. 

“ Well, Mr. Chairman,” replied the doctor, feebly, 
“ I can’t help perceiving the force of Neighbor 
Shore’s remarks, and I fully agree with him that we 
are entitled to, as it were, the undivided energies of 
our employees. Still, on the other hand, we know 
what a, burden of taxation we all have to carry ” — the 
doctor’s tax was two dollars a year, — “ and it strikes 
me that in view of that circumstance we might do 
well to try Mr. Tilden another term, with perhaps 
an admonition, so to speak, in respect to engaging 
in other avocations.” 

“All right then,” said the chairman, briskly, — he 
had grown a trifle uneasy during this long and meas- 
ured deliverance, — “ we ’ll try him once more, Brother 
Shore, and leave the event.” 

The request for reappointment of Mr. Tilden’s 
assistant was then read and granted without debate, 
and then came the application of the lady principal 
in the intermediate department, who closed her peti- 
tion with a reminder to the committee that she had 
always “ stood by ” them through thick and thin, and 
if reappointed would continue to do so. 

“Confound that woman!” growled Gideon. 
“ What does she mean by such foolery ? Who the 
dickens wants her to ‘stand by’ anybody, anyhow?” 

“ Well, I don’t suppose anybody ’s very particular 
about it,” admitted the chairman, reflectively; “but 


68 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


she ’s always had a notion that the whole administra- 
tion rested on her shoulders, and as it has n’t seemed 
to interfere with her usefulness, and as after all she 
has never fallen into the error somewhat prevalent 
among women teachers of thinking it beneath her 
dignity to take any direction from the committee, 
I Ve been disposed to overlook it.” 

“Time ’t was taken out of her,” snarled Gideon. 
“I’m down on these women that ask for your pat- 
ronage and then want to square the account by 
1 standing by ’ you.” 

“ Very true,” assented the doctor ; “I am quite of 
your opinion, Brother Shore. Still, as our chair- 
man has, as I may say, very justly observed, Mrs. 
Anderson has proved a very useful teacher, and any 
little harmless idiosyncrasy, as it were, might, per- 
haps, be properly enough overlooked.” 

“ All right,” said the chairman again, more 
briskly than ever, as if to average up against his 
colleague’s deliberation. “And now a few more 
and we are done.” 

Several applications were then read and disposed 
of in quick succession, for or against, until only two 
petitions remained, both by new aspirants, asking for 
the single outlying school now remaining unprovided 
for. They were both read before being considered, 
and the second was signed “Elinor Austin.” 

Robert, absorbed in his own thoughts, had given 
little heed to the discussion going on inside. The 
soft lovleliness of the night held his senses in thrall, 
and the infrequent sounds coming up from the water 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 69 

side seemed only to punctuate and make more im- 
pressive the brooding stillness. Down on the shore 
a numerous colony of ducks chatted together in 
subdued gratulation over the marine tid-bits left by 
the receding tide, or glided away with the same low- 
toned converse for an exploration of the neighbor- 
ing shallows. Oft* in the middle distance a rowing 
party went lazily by with glancing oar, and the soft 
notes of an Italian boat song came like the music of 
the spheres across the intervening tide. Now and 
again a night-bird called hoarsely to his mate and 
was answered ; the bell of the ferryman sent forth a 
lonesome peal from the further shore, and the twink- 
ling lights of innumerable yachts and other craft 
bestudded the outer haven. 

When, however, the name of Elinor Austin came 
wafted through the open window, the dreamer 
pricked up his ears, so to speak, and commenced to 
pay attention ; and the subsequent discussion had 
not proceeded far before he had decided upon his 
course and noiselessly left his place. 

“ Austin ! ” exclaimed Gideon. “ Is she the daugh- 
ter of that disreputable old fisherman over on the 
bluff?” 

“I suppose it is she,” returned Mr. Owen. “I 
know of no other family of that name in the village.” 

“ Then I ’m opposed to her, tooth and nail. I 
don’t know anything about the girl, but the father is 
a law-breaker and an ill-favored old pirate, and I 
dare say has been in jail. You may put me down 
No on that every time.” 


70 


THE ISLANDERS; 


“ Oh, well,” said the chairman, who had had every- 
thing his own way so far, and was disposed to defer 
to the fiery farmer where he had no preference 
himself: “if this application strikes you as one that 
ought not to be entertained ” — 

At this moment there was a tap on the door open- 
ing into the hall, which Mr. Owen at once responded 
to, and returned in a moment to say that a gentle- 
man from another town had called upon business 
which would admit of no delay, and therefore, with 
his associates’ consent, they would defer action on 
remaining matters until their meeting the following 
week. 

This was assented to and the committee adjourned. 

It is perhaps needless to add that the caller was 
Robert, who had perceived that Miss Austin was 
likely to be thrown overboard incontinently, and was 
determined that she should have a chance for her 
life. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


71 


CHAPTER XII. 

The following morning, after considerable waiting 
until the day’s duties should have been sufficiently 
discharged to admit of a call without too great incon- 
venience to the housekeeper, Robert found his way 
to the fisherman’s cottage. 

Though keeping up an almost daily consignment 
of books and encountering Miss Austin occasionally 
in his walks to the village, he had not as yet permit- 
ted himself to take advantage of the half freedom 
accorded to him at their last interview, and so this 
was his first formal call since his walk home with the 
girl from the minister’s reception. 

He found her just completing the sewing on of a 
loose strand of Jimmie’s straw hat — having accom- 
plished which, she placed the hat on the youngster’s 
curly bead, and with one of his swift, bright looks 
at the two the boy was off and away. 

Then beckoning to Robert she led the way to the 
front room, and having placed for him a chair sat 
down and — cried. 

The young man, shocked beyond measure at this 
outburst on the part of the calm, self-contained girl, 
made no effort to restrain this expression of her 
trouble, believing that whatever was the matter her 
tears would be a relief rather than otherwise. And so 


72 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


for a few minutes they sat in silence, except for the 
sobs of the girl as her young frame shook with the 
violence of her emotion. 

Little by little, however, she grew more tranquil, 
and at last, lifting her eyes to her visitor with a wan 
smile, she spoke. 

“I don’t know what you think of me, and I ought 
to apologize for bringing you in here before I was 
certain that you intended remaining at all. But my 
father is confined to his room, ill, and I thought he 
would be less likely to notice your presence in this 
part of the house. And as for my breaking down 
so, I have been sitting up for two or three nights, 
and it has made me nervous and hysterical.” 

“Say no more about it,” said Robert, gently — 
wondering again within himself that he, Robert Lyn- 
den, should continue to bear this distrustful treat- 
ment by these people so patiently. “ Believe me, I 
am most sorry to find you in trouble, and sincerely 
hope you will permit me to be of use to you in some 
way.” 

“You are very kind, and I am already greatly in 
your debt for the thoughtful attentions that have done 
so much to enliven my life for the past few weeks. 
But,” sadly, “I do not think there is anything fur- 
ther you can do.” 

“By the way,” said Robert, apparently desirous of 
changing the subject, but shrewdly suspecting that 
his very errand might have some bearing on the sit- 
uation, “I heard your name called at a meeting of 
the school committee last evening. You know my 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 73 

landlord is chairman of that high and mighty tri- 
bunal, and the meetings are held at his house; and 
as I was sitting outside, and the windows were open, 
I could n’t help hearing more or less of what was 
going on.” 

A deep blush had overspread the girl’s face while 
Lynden was speaking, and then receded leaving her 
paler than before. 

“I am so sorry,” she said, in a troubled tone. “I 
had not supposed that any one need know of it ex- 
cept the committee, and in case of my rejection, 
which I now feel is certain, none but they would 
know of my failure.” 

“ What makes you so sure that you have no 
chance ? ” 

“This,” replied Elinor, having now somewhat re- 
gained her habitual composure. “Last night father 
was feeling more than usually despondent, and fear- 
ful that he might not be strong enough again for 
fishing, and asking what would become of us, and I 
to comfort him told him I had applied for a school, 
though I had intended waiting until I knew the 
result.” 

“‘A school?’ he cried. ‘You may as well give 
that up at once. There is one man on the com- 
mittee who will oppose it, and the others won’t care 
and will agree with him.’” 

“I asked him what member of the committee it 
was, and why he was certain he would oppose me, 
and he said the man’s name was Shore. Mr. Shore 
was down at the pier trying to find how long it 


74 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


would take to drown his dog by pushing him back 
into the water as often as he attempted to land, and 
just as the poor creature was about giving up the 
struggle my father came to the animal’s rescue and 
took him to his boat. It was a most trivial affair, as 
you see, but Mr. Shore was terribly incensed, and 
promised my father that he would teach him not to 
interfere with what was n’t his concern.” 

“He seems to be a tough kind of citizen,” said 
Robert, “and easily riled. He, however, may not 
be so formidable as you imagine.” 

“I don’t know,” said Elinor, sadly. “I can’t go 
and ask his pardon in my father’s behalf, you know, 
because there’s nothing to pardon. And I can 
hardly expect that the other members will interest 
themselves in one who is almost a stranger to them, 
and against the objection of one of their number.” 

“Oh, well,” insisted Robert, “don’t give it up. 
There’s no telling what a day may bring forth.” 

Just then Jimmie came running in,' and pro- 
claimed that he was hungry. “You know, sister, 
there wasn’t much breakfast.” 

“I know it, Jimmie; but you know I was too 
busy with papa to do much about it. Go and get a 
cooky or something from the pantry.” 

“But there isn’t any cooky, nor any bread, nor 
anything,” insisted the boy, whose usual keenness 
seemed to have deserted him on this occasion. “I 
looked.” 

Marking the quivering lip of the despairing girl, 
and suspecting the true state of affairs, Robert here 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 75 

arose, and remarking that he would like to have 
Jimmie do an errand for him in the village, took a 
hurried leave and passed out, followed by the boy. 

Elinor sat for a long time after Lynden had gone, 
her drooping figure suggestive of the deep dejection 
that possessed her. 

After a while, however, she roused herself and 
returned to the living-room, whence she was about 
to go to her father, when her steps were arrested by 
the entrance of Jimmie, who was busily engaged on 
a mince turnover. 

“Look, sister ; I went on just the least little bit of 
an errand for him, and see what he gave me.” 

Elinor examined the bright little coin, and saw at 
once it was a quarter-eagle. She flushed as she re- 
flected that this was the first out-and-out act of char- 
ity of which they had been the object. 

“I’m afraid, Jimmie, he didn’t mean to give you 
so much for the tittle you say you did for him.” 

“Yes, he did; and he said that perhaps you 
wouldn’t have time to make me any cookies very 
much while papa was sick, and you could buy some 
with this.” And so saying he deposited the gift in 
his sister’s hand and went out to play. 

This was on Friday. On the following Monday 
the school committee held their adjourned meeting, 
at which Mr. Owen with all deference to his dissent- 
ing colleague, submitted a number of reasons why 
Miss Austi was likely to make a more acceptable 
teacher than the rival claimant, in all of which he 
was ably seconded by the good doctor, and vigor- 


76 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


ously but unavailingly combated by the truculent 
Gideon. 

And so the black cloud which had been hovering 
over the Austin household was dissipated, at least 
for a season, and the commercial credit so necessary 
to the invalid was at once restored. 

And while this little difficulty w T as being adjusted 
by the committee inside Robert Lynden sat out on 
the veranda with his feet on the rail, watching with 
tranquil satisfaction the wreaths of smoke from his 
cigar as they wafted off into space. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


77 


CHAPTER XIII. 

It was “ Illumination night ” at Cottage City. 
All day long on the “Bluffs,” on the old “Camp 
Ground,” and even over on the high lands “beyond 
Jordan,” the work of preparation had been going 
forward and now the results were apparent from one 
end of the summer city to the other. 

It was an inspiring spectacle. The avenues on 
the Bluffs, the Camp Ground, and Washington Park 
on the Highlands, were ablaze with Chinese lanterns 
and many colored fires ; brass bands discoursed music 
here and there, while from various points fireworks 
without stint, and in all manner of ingenious devices, 
were displayed for the entertainment of the moving 
crowds. 

The “annual illumination” had not yet ceased to 
be fashionable, and the Tuckers, the Spragues, the 
Rusts, the Spinneys, the Motts, the Corbins, the 
Sages, the Yan Slycks, the houses of Landers and 
Barnes, and all the other magnates, vied with each 
other in the amount and variety of their decorations, 
and in the brilliancy of their fiery display. 

Lynden and Sewell, neither of whom had ever 
witnessed a similar spectacle, made a thorough tour of 
the “City”; meeting, passing, jostling the countless 


78 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


strollers, whose good-natured chatter added buoy- 
ance and life to the scene. 

“ This certainly is a lovely place, by night or 
noon,” remarked Sewell, as they stopped for a mo- 
ment to greet Judge , a handsome, courtly old 

gentleman whose cottage faced the broad park on 
which was the preaching stand, and to whom both 
young men had taken a strong liking. “ It seems to 
me, though — and this unusual glare makes the fact 
more apparent — that some of these people are living 
more in the face and eyes of one another than is al- 
together agreeable.” 

“ More so, perhaps, than might seem to be agree- 
able to an on-looker,” replied the Judge. “But the 
fact that the same people have been returning here 
year after year for so long, many of them to hired 
cottages at that, is pretty conclusive evidence that it 
is, at least, not disagreeable to them” 

“Spoken like a lawyer,” laughed the minister. 
“But doesn’t it strike you as being a little singular? ” 

“ I felt so at first, but not after I had had opportu- 
nity to test it a little. We all like change; and to 
these people, who for ten months in the year live in 
cities, big and little, where every family fortifies 
itself against its neighbors’ observation as carefully 
as though a vandal invasion was feared — to them 
the free-and-easy, open-house manner of living prev- 
alent here has, therefore, all the greater charm. 
Besides, one sees as much as one’s neighbor, and has 
only to listen in order to overhear ; so there is com- 
pensation after all.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 79 

“ Your explanation is at least ingenious,” replied 
Sewell ; “ and perhaps accounts as well as any for 
what is evidently an incontrovertible fact. For my- 
self, however, I must say I should prefer a little 
more seclusion.” 

“Very likely,” said Lynden ; “and so might I, 
and so might the Judge if he didn’t have a whole 
park between himself and hjs neighbors over the 
way. But it is the preference of other people rather 
than our own that we are trying to account for, and 
I think his Honor has done it very successfully.” 

The conversation from this point took a wider 
range for a half hour, and then the two friends, bid- 
ding the Judge and his family good evening, made 
their way round to the landing, and mounting to the 
raised and covered platform provided for that pur- 
pose, seated themselves to watch the outpouring of 
passengers from the late boat, now just arrived. 

A strong light thrown upon the pier brought out 
the faces of the fast-moving stream with consider- 
able distinctness, and the young men had been 
seated but a few minutes when Sewell suddenly 
remarked : “ There ’s our knight of the rueful coun- 
tenance,” at the same time motioning with his head 
to a point below. 

Kobert looked, and there sure enough was the tall 
form of the stranger who had interviewed Jimmie 
shouldering its way up to the Sea View steps. The 
same look of settled melancholy which they had 
before remarked still rested upon the man’s counte- 
nance and he appeared utterly indifferent to what 
was going on about him. 


80 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“Sewell,” said Robert, “I am going to do a thing 
that I never was guilty of before. I’m going to 
spy on that man to the extent of following him up 
to the desk and seeing what name he registers.” 

Before his companion had opportunity to agree or 
protest, Robert was putting his resolve into execu- 
tion, and Sewell saw no reason why he should n’t 
follow. Accordingly, they reached the register 
together, the guest going immediately to his room, 
and there read the last entry, “John Fairfax, 
England.” 

“Well,” said Sewell, regarding his friend with an 
amused smile, “he might have been a Roosian, a 
Persian or a Proosian, but it seems he’s an English- 
man.” 

“Yes,” returned Robert ; “ and much good does it 
do us. To tell the truth, I ’m already ashamed of 
my curiosity, and can hardly imagine what I ex- 
pected to find.” 

“Well, I’m sure I can’t. And now suppose we 
have some suppef. It ’s more than two hours after 
my usual time, and I ’m as hungry as a shark.” 

They accordingly entered the dining-room, whence, 
after a leisurely satisfying of the inner man, they 
were issuing forth, when Sewell stopped to greet a 
brother clergyman from a distant city, and Robert 
passed on to the reading-room, which he found un- 
occupied, all the guests being outside. 

Hardly had he taken a seat and commenced the 
perusal of an evening paper, when the sound of 
some one entering the room attracted his attention, 


A ROMANCE 'OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 81 

and glancing up he perceived the melancholy 
stranger. 

“I beg your pardon,” said the man, accosting 
Eobert with grave courtesy ; “ but I would like to 
make myself known to you, and then with your per- 
mission to ask you one or two questions.” 

“ Certainly,” said Lynden, accepting the tender of 
a card bearing the name already inscribed on the 
hotel register, and responding with his own. 

“Pardon me if I seem inquisitive about that which 
may not appear to concern me,” began Fairfax, “ but 
I can assure you that my questions are not prompted 
by motives of mere curiosity.” 

Lynden, impressed by the man’s dignified bearing 
as well as by the tale of trouble written in the lines 
of his face, intimated that he should be happy to 
furnish him with any information in his possession. 

“Were you not at this place on the day of the New 
York yacht race, in company with another gentleman 
and a little fair-haired boy? ” 

Eobert assented. 

“ Something in the boy’s face,” continued Fairfax, 
his lip barely betraying his agitation, “reminded me 
so strongly of a long-lost friend, that I stopped and 
asked him his name. He said it was Austin, — - 
Jimmie Austin. Was that correct?” 

“It was,” replied Eobert, moved in spite of him- 
self by his questioner’s manner. 

“ He said further that he lived over in the next 
village with his father and sister. Was that also 
true?” 


82 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Robert again replied in the affirmative. 

“ Can you tell me anything about the family’s his- 
tory?” pursued Mr. Fairfax. 

“I can only say,” answered Robert, “that the 
father’s name is James Austin, and they came to 
this island from New York a few years ago, the 
family then consisting of the husband, wife, and two 
children — the wife being a second wife, and the 
younger child the offspring of the second marriage. 
The wife died soon after arriving here, and the 
daughter keeps the house.” 

“ There appears to be nothing peculiar about the 
family ?” suggested Fairfax, with a pathetic appeal 
in his voice that made Robert’s heart go out to him. 
“Nothing mysterious, or that looks like conceal- 
ment?” 

“ No ; they are wofully poor, and the old man 
is n’t very popular among his fellow-fishermen, and 
has evidently seen better days. Moreover he seems 
to be morbidly opposed to his family extending their 
acquaintance among the people of the town. But I 
have never heard it intimated that there was any- 
thing unusual or unaccountable about the family, and 
the old man’s holding himself so aloof is doubtless 
owing to his poverty and the hypochondria engen- 
dered by prolonged ill health.” 

“Then lam again without hope,” groaned Fair- 
fax in bitterness of spirit. “The coincidence of name, 
and the strong physical resemblance, alike count for 
nothing as against the hard facts to which you have 
testified. The country is full of Austins, but ever 


A ROMANCE 'OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 83 

since I saw you on that day the face of that child has 
haunted me ; and though I went back to New York 
satisfied that the resemblance was only a chance one 
as proved by the boy’s answers, I was never able to 
rid myself of the feeling that perhaps I ought to have 
prosecuted my inquiry further. And so I came back 
again, determined if necessary to go to the boy’s home 
and interrogate his people. My falling in with you, 
however, has saved me that necessity, and your testi- 
mony has shown me how fruitless would have been 
an investigation in that quarter. I must now return 
at once to New York, and there resume the prosecu- 
tion of a search which I cannot abandon, but which 
seems to me now utterly hopeless.” 

A short silence followed the conclusion of this 
speech, Fairfax giving himself up to the bitterness 
of his disappointment, Lynden unable to find words 
of consolation for what was evidently so deep an 
affliction. 

Presently the Englishman broke the silence in a 
way quite to Lynden’s surprise. 

“You may wonder that I should care to confide in 
a stranger, and the time has been when I should have 
astonished myself by any such proceeding. But pro- 
longed suffering and heartsickness break a man’s 
pride, or at least beat down the barriers which he 
has been accustomed to rear about him, and move 
him to claim fellowship and sympathy where before 
he would have felt debarred. And so if you are will- 
ing to hear it I think it will do me good to tell you 
why I am here.” 


84 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Robert expressed his readiness, and Fairfax pro- 
ceeded : — 

“ My name is John Fairfax, as you have seen, and 
I am now, so far as I know, the sole representative 
of our particular branch of that family, certain of 
whose members have been closely identified with the 
history of your own country. We are by no means 
great folks, but my own progenitors have fortunately 
for me been more successful financially than some of 
the titled members of the family. 

“About six years ago, my father being then alive 
though in feeble health, I returned from India to 
London in a merchant ship commanded by one Rich- 
ard Austin, and by reason of certain circumstances 
which I need not rehearse here, was entertained for 
a day or two at Capt. Austin’s house. There I saw 
his daughter, Grace Austin. I will not undertake to 
enlarge upon her charms now, nor to describe the 
impression which she at once produced upon me. 
Suffice it to say that I left the house with her image 
stamped indelibly upon my heart, and with a deter- 
mination to see her again at the earliest opportunity. 

“From that time on I saw her at frequent inter- 
vals, always as it happened in the absence of her 
father — she had a young sister but no mother living 
— and at the end of six months she consented to a 
secret marriage. This, I should explain, was neces- 
sary unless we were willing to wait indefinitely, as 
my father had other plans for me, and we could not 
afford to incur his displeasure. 

“ So we were married in an obscure suburb of the 
city, and went quietly off for a tour of the continent 


A ROMANCE, OF MARTHA’S TINE YARD. 


85 


Of the months of wedded bliss that followed, as we 
roamed up and down, visiting the historic cities of 
Southern Europe, and lingering in henpleasant places, 
I will say nothing. Our life and love flowed along 
in an uninterrupted river of delight, until one day, 
in a lonely country place in Italy, where we were 
staying, having wandered away into the wilderness 
farther than I intended, I was suddenly surrounded 
by brigands, and seized and borne away to the moun- 
tains. Then, after a fortnight’s solitary confinement, 
they named the ransom for which they would liberate; 
me, — a sum so enormous that both my indignation 
and consideration for my father constrained me to 
decline the proposition. Then a week intervened, 
and another somewhat reduced demand, — which was 
also declined, — and so from week to week, until 
fortune at last favored me and I escaped, and, after 
wandering many days, made my way back to the 
place where I had left my wife. 

“But nearly three months had elapsed, and the 
poor child, worn out with waiting and the vain search 
for me, and with her money nearly gone, — this I 
learned from our landlord, — had at last given up 
the quest in despair, and returned to her home. 
Thither I followed her at once, only to learn from 
their old housekeeper, whom I traced to another 
house, that Captain Austin had never credited his 
daughter’s story of her marriage, but, on the con- 
trary, had placed the worst possible construction on 
her flight, and insisted that her pretended husband 
had voluntarily abandoned her. And so, broken in 
spirit, and at the same time suffering in health and 


86 


THE islanders; 


overtaken by financial reverses, he had realized on 
the remnant of property still his own, and sailed 
with his family for America, having made no attempt 
whatever to ascertain the true facts of the case. 
Meanwhile our child had been born, — a boy. 

“ Ascertaining the name of the steamer in which 
they sailed, I followed the family to New York, 
where I lost all trace of them ; and, in spite of my 
unremitting efforts, assisted by the best detective 
talent that could be found, — I have been, perhaps, 
foolishly sensitive about going into the newspapers, — 

I have been unable to discover any clue to their 
whereabouts since ; and I may add that nearly all of 
the time has been wasted following false leads, South 
and West. 

“And now,” concluded Fairfax, turning his sad 
face toward Robert, “ you understand how a chance 
resemblance, discovered in the face of a little boy, 
has power to send me running up and down over the 
face of the earth, asking impertinent questions or 
every one who appears good-natured enough to be 
likely to answer them, and inflicting my woful storj . 
on those to whom, perhaps, it is a hardship to have 9 
to listen.” 

“It certainly,” replied Lynden, “has been no 
hardship to me. I have been more affected than I 
can tell you by the sad recital, and you have my 
heartfelt wishes for the final success of your search.” 

At that moment Mr. Sewell appeared on the scene, 
and, bidding his new acquaintance a sympathizing 
good night, Robert rejoined his friend, and the two 
took carriage for home. 


87 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VTNEYARD. 

I ' 


CHAPTER XIV. 

September had come, and with it the fall fishing 
and the opening of the village schools. 

Captain Austin had recovered partially from his 
severe indisposition, and on fine days went “ out- 
side” in pursuit of the autumnal bluefisb, which is 
to the earlier variety as a salmon to a shad. His 
trips were somewhat irregular, however, and it was 
evident that unless there was a radical change in his 
condition he would not another season be»entrusted 
with a boat. 

The thought that provision for their more pressing 
needs had been made, at least for a time, comforted 
the old man’s heart, while his daughter went about 
her new duties with a hopeful courage that was in- 
spiring to witness. 

Rising at six o’clock, she had prepared and they 
had partaken of the morning meal, a lunch had been 
set for her father and Jimmie and her own put in a 
basket, and two hours later she was ready for her 
walk across the fields and through the wood to the 
district school-house. 

It was a pleasant walk ; through trim lanes whose 
velvety sward made restful footing, across still smil- 
ing fields where mild-eyed cattle glanced approv- 
ingly up at the lithe figure and then returned to 


88 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


their perpetual grazing ; through groves of oak and 
walnut whose verdure was still comforting to the 
eye and whose dense foliage made grateful shelter 
from the wind; over wide reaches of common, 
gilded with golden-rod and brown with ripening 
wood-grass and the wild bean. 

The school-house was a comfortable but primitive 
structure. A single square room with a box of an 
entry formed its interior, and no trace of paint had 
defiled the virgin wood within or without. The 
walls — except for occasional ink-splashed spaces 
that would not “ cover ” — were kept fairly white ; a 
square wood stove stood in the centre of the room ; 
triangular little shelves that some aesthetic school- 
marm had decorated with lambrequins occupied the 
corners ; the teacher’s desk — generally littered with 
the floral offerings of admiring pupils — confronted 
the school, and a pair of infirm chairs stood near for 
the accommodation of visitors. 

The children were about an average lot — one 
bright one to three dullards. There was the inevita- 
ble awkward and overgrown girl, a head taller than 
the teacher ; the boy with a sore heel ; the little girl 
who could not be induced to use a nosekerchief ; the 
midget who was at the head of every class in every- 
thing ; and later there would be the stalwart young 
granger coming in for his annual three months of 
winter schooling. 

All these varied sizes, temperaments and intelli- 
gences, to the number of about twenty, Miss Austin 
found herself set to discipline and instruct, and for 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 89 
% \ 

the moment she feared she had undertaken a task far 
beyond her capacity. 

But she underestimated her own powers. As day 
succeeded day, the even disposition, the quiet firm- 
ness, the uniform good temper, the sweet seriousness 
of manner, and possibly more than all the attractive 
physical presence, had their effect upon her miscel- 
laneous family, and the slight feeling of awe with 
which they commenced was soon transformed into 
the warmest affection and esteem. 

Robert, who had long before developed a fondness 
for rambling about the country in this and other 
directions, could not resist the temptation to drop in 
occasionally as he passed by, simply, as he assured 
the scholars at the close of the exercises, to say a 
word of encouragement to them in their arduous 
journey up the hill of learning. 

It seemed to him that these hours — sometimes 
bright mornings, but oftener drowsy afternoons — 
were the happiest that he had passed since coming to 
Exham. Under cover of that extraordinary. interest 
in the cause of education which had now taken 
possession of his soul, he could sit for hour after 
hour listening to the rich tones of the teacher’s voice, 
as she opened up the book of knowledge to her 
young charge ; watching the graceful figure moving 
about with its unconscious stateliness ; catching an 
occasional glance from the glorious eyes, and won- 
dering if the rising flush were interest or only em- 
barrassment ; holding no conversation, but simply 
basking in an atmosphere of sublime content. 


90 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Conscious of certain weaknesses in his own com- 
position, the companionship of this strong, self-poised 
young woman seemed to invigorate him, as it were, 
like a stimulating tonic, and to impart a mental and 
even physical robustness to himself, of which he 
sometimes realized his need. Not that he was 
lamentably lacking in either respect, nor that there 
w r as a redundance of either in her. Eobert’s water- 
side summer had made a fairly strong man of him in 
body, and as for his mind, there never had been a 
lack of ability, though possibly of energy. 

On the other hand Elinor was far from impressing 
one with any over-development of physique in spite 
of her superb young womanhood, while in mental 
resources she was immeasurably the inferior of 
Eobert. She had read but comparatively little, of 
fact or of fiction, and her admirer would, perhaps, 
have been pained to know how many of the books he 
had sent her she had as yet been unable to read with 
interest, because, whatever her natural capacity, her 
scant literary apprenticeship had not educated her to 
the level of their comprehension. 

Nevertheless, there was about her a certain mental 
equilibrium which had an indescribable charm for 
Eobert, as contrasted with his own somewhat erratic 
tendencies, and which, moreover, he imagined would 
ever hold under firm control both the womanly and 
womanish impulses of her strong nature. 

For that it was a strong nature he was well con- 
vinced. Beneath that tranquil exterior he believed 
he saw fountains of tenderness and love, long re- 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 91 

pressed, but which some time would burst the 
barriers of pride and reserve so Jong guarding them, 
and bless forever the life of him who should succeed 
in calling them forth. 

Robert sometimes remained late enough to accom- 
pany Elinor home at the close of the day, but not 
often. When he did remain, the walk home was a 
thing to be remembered. All the glories of nature 
in early fall were about them ; the trees cast brood- 
ing shadows as they wandered through the wood ; 
sweet scents and sounds of field and farm came 
wafted through the early gloaming, and all the while 
this gracious presence at his side thrilled him without 
contact by the mere knowledge of her being there. 

Often he was on the point of saying something of 
the sentiment that possessed him, but always was 
restrained by two things. 

His uncertainty of himself ever rose to plague 
him. Again and again, when it seemed to him that 
heaven could hold no greater happiness than the 
love of this beautiful woman, came to him the ques- 
tion, Would it be lasting? Would there come a 
time when her beauty would paK upon him ; when 
her composure of manner would be only heaviness, 
her majesty change to masculinity, and her sweet 
seriousness seem only dulness and discontent? 

The other obstacle was his mother. 


92 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER XV. 

But little has been said of Robert Lynden’s mother 
in this narration, and the only occasion for any more 
extended allusion to her now is the opposition which 
she began to develop to what she perceived to be a 
growing interest in her son’s mind for Elinor Austin. 

Mrs. Lynden was emphatically a “nice” woman. 
She was not specially accomplished. Intellectually 
she was but little above the average of fairly edu- 
cated women. Her progenitors had been professional 
and semi-professional people, none of them very dis- 
tinguished or very rich — in brief, she belonged to 
what may be styled first-class mediocrity. 

But this real commonplaceness she had striven to 
overcome by an assumption of reticent superiority — 
unaggressiva but no less evident — and by living a 
retired and semi-ascetic life, of which the community 
about her was permitted to have little knowledge. 
And she was partially successful in accomplishing 
her purpose. Her townspeople had come uncon- 
sciously to feel that a woman — a widow at that and 
often alone — who could live in apparent content 
entirely independent of the little social interchanges 
which were necessary to render their own existence 
endurable, must be made of different material from 
themselves, and must have within herself a capacity 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 93 

for self-entertainment with which they had not been 
endowed. 

Robert’s father had been far superior to his mother 
in both mind and heart, and from him he had in- 
herited a thorough abhorrence of all sham and pre- 
tension, and a firm conviction that there were not a 
few people about him as “ good ” as himself. Never- 
theless, while perceiving the lack of genuineness in 
his mother’s make-up and the mistaken motive by 
which her life was ordered, he appreciated her many 
admirable qualities, realized the entirety with which 
she had devoted her life to his welfare, and loved her 
with deep affection. 

His growing attachment for the fisherman’s daugh- 
ter was the first point of difference that had ever 
risen between them, and this had not as yet occa- 
sioned any actual unpleasantness, though Mrs. Lyn- 
den’s disapproval of that young person had been 
sufficiently evident to Robert to make him doubtful 
of ever winning her to his way of thinking — or the 
way in which he felt himself fast getting to think. 

“Remember, my son,” said Mrs. Lynden on one 
occasion, when Robert had betrayed his interest in 
Elinor more palpably than ever before: “remember 
that an engagement of this kind is entered into for 
life, and consider if this girl possesses the attributes 
that will make a life-union with her the highest hap- 
piness for you. Think what her associations have 
been for the last five years at least — the very time 
when she was most susceptible to outside influ- 


ences. 


94 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


“ Associations ? She has n’t had any.” 

“ I suppose you mean she has n’t had any associates 
— any young companions. So much the worse!” 
said Mrs. Lynden triumphantly, but shifting her 
ground as women will. “If a young and beautiful 
girl as you describe her to be has no companions 
among those of her own age there must be some 
good reason for it.” 

“But I am informed” — Kobert didn’t say by 
whom — “ that her father objects to her forming inti- 
macies in the village, and that that is so well under- 
stood that no one has as yet attempted to invade their 
seclusion. That ought to commend them to you,” 
added Kobert, with just a suspicion of mischief in 
his eye. 

“It might,” replied Mrs. Lynden, coldly, without 
noticing the look, “ if they were a different kind of 
people. But as it is, my own inference would be 
quite otherwise.” 

“I don’t understand you.” 

“ The construction I should place upon this affec- 
tation of exclusiveness in people of their condition 
in life,” said the widow, severely, “is either that 
there has been something in their history which the 
father dreads to have inquired into and so cuts off all 
approaches to familiarity, or else that he has not that 
confidence in his daughter which it is desirable for a 
parent to have.” 

Kobert flushed hotly. “ There is nothing in their 
family history that needs concealment, and her life 
is holy. Perhaps as much can not be said of all those 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA'S VINEYARD. 95 

whom we have been pleased, through life, to consider 
as of ‘our class.* Don’t think me rude or untilial. 
We certainly can’t travel together on the road you 
have just indicated. Not even maternal solicitude 
can justify an insinuation like your last.” 

And so saying the young man seized his hat and 
walked wrathfully out, and betook him to one of his 
long rambles across the fields. 

He had replied courageously to his mother’s inti- 
mations that all was not as it should be with the 
Austins, and he felt as confident as he did of his own 
existence that her last innuendo was as false as it was 
cruel. The girl’s treatment of himself was suffi- 
cient evidence of that if he had needed any. 

But although her suggestion that there had been 
something unwholesome in the family history, — 
some skeleton in the closet that must by no chance 
be exposed, — had been confidently controverted by 
him, his mind now recurred to it with misgiving. 
Might there not be something such as his mother had 
indicated? Was it not even evident that there had 
been unpleasant passages in the lives of some of them ? 
The father’s reticence, his disinclination to permit his 
daughter the companionship of others, that daughter’s 
repressed manner, the child of the captain’s old age 
— all these things impressed him more seriously than 
they had ever done before. 

Musing thus, with eyes bent upon the ground, he 
came suddenly upon Elinor returning from school, 
lunch basket in hand, with a weary look about the 
sensitive mouth and a wistful gaze in the sombre eyes, 


96 


THE ISLANDERS*, 


and the supple figure less pronounced in its carriage 
than generally it seemed. 

Her face brightened at the sight of Robert, and 
she -endeavored to resume her usual serenity of man- 
ner. But not before he had observed the drear- 
iness of her mood. His heart went out toward her 
as he wondered what had caused it. 

“It is ages since I have seen you, Miss Austin,” 
began Robert ; “ and I had almost begun to think you 
studied to avoid me.” 

“No,” replied Elinor, with eyes on the ground; 
“ but you know you have n’t been to see the school 
of late, and I cannot, — that is, I am not likely to 
meet you elsewhere.” 

“It is true,” said Robert, a little self-consciously, 
“that I haven’t manifested my usual interest in your 
pupils ; but I am always out of doors, and it seems 
as though, whenever I chance to take your accus- 
tomed road home, you have chosen, on that partic- 
ular occasion, to go some other way.” 

“You must not think it designed,” said the girl, 
quickly ; “ I am quite irregular about my route 
home, and it has been purely a mischance that you 
have not met me.” 

“You say ‘ mischance,’ ” said Robert, tentatively. 
“ Would it have been accurate to have said 4 mis- 
fortune?’” 

“It might have seemed a misfortune to one and 
not to the other. I used ‘mischance’ as safer, and 
as applicable from the standpoint of either.” 

“Very diplomatically answered,” replied Robert, 


A ROMANCE' OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 97 

laughingly, somewhat taken aback at this bit of 
fencing. “After all, we are only playing at words, — 
a most unprofitable pastime. Let me join you on 
your way to school to-morrow (I suppose you will go 
this way), and I will not harbor any suspicion that 
you try to avoid me.” 

Elinor hesitated, and then said quietly : “ As you 
will. I will at least undertake to go what you call 
my usual way.” And, their paths diverging here, 
the schoolmistress went on to her home, while the 
young man returned meditatively to his boarding 
place. 

He was not altogether satisfied with the interview. 
He could not say, now that it was over, that Miss 
Austin had manifested any regret that he had failed 
to see her oftener, nor that her usual composure had 
seemed to be disturbed by his presence. On the 
other hand, the sight of her had served to intensify 
the warm feeling which had already had its birth in 
his heart, and had strengthened his conviction that, 
whatever cloud might hang over the Austins, Elinor 
herself was in no wise under it. 


98 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The following morning .Robert breakfasted earlier 
than usual, and immediately afterward called to his 
dog and started off by a roundabout route, skirting 
the shore for a while and then striking across country 
and making his way slowly toward the interior. 

It was a glorious morning ; and as the young man 
swept with his eye the sparkling bosom of the harbor, 
the picturesque village coming down to its brink, and 
the green and brown of the inland reaches, he felt 
that he could pass a lifetime amid these peaceful 
scenes and never tire, if only one object on which he 
had set his heart could be attained. 

He had thought it all over half of the preceding 
night, and had weighed everything. He had consid- 
ered how little he knew of Elinor personally ; how 
utterly ignorant he was of her family history ; how 
widely she differed from the ideal he had always had 
before him ; how many things to which his own mind 
inclined would perhaps ever remain a closed book to 
her. He asked himself if it was her beauty that had 
enthralled him, and he thought he could answer no. 
He asked himself what in particular drew him towards 
her and he could not say. He only knew that his 
soul was filled with a longing to hear her say that she 
loved him, and then to possess her. It was n’t a 


a romancM of Martha’s vineyard. 99 

question of antecedents, or intellectual attributes, or 
social aspirations, or congenial tastes. It was Elinor 
that he wanted, just as she was ; and he felt that un- 
less that desire of his heart was gratified life could 
never again be worth the living. 

Robert had made a somewhat wide detour while 
these thoughts in their various amplifications were 
passing through his mind, but now changing his course 
he struck into the road which Miss Austin was accus- 
tomed to take from the village, and sauntered along 
at a leisurely pace, counting upon meeting her when 
perhaps half the journey should have been accom- 
plished. 

Walking on, his mind recurred to the matter which 
was now so all-absorbing, and he commenced review- 
ing, as he had a hundred times before, all the inci- 
dents that had marked their acquaintance. 

In vain, however, he tried to discover in her bear- 
ing toward him sufficient evidence on which to base 
a belief that she cared for him. In expressions of 
gratitude — how he loathed that word ! — on the sev- 
eral occasions of his timely intervention, she had not 
been wanting ; but no word of hers had yet betrayed 
a heart interest, and upon her face no sign of agita- 
tion had ever appeared, except when stirred by some 
emotion of which he could not discover himself to be 
the cause. 

Meanwhile half the distance had been covered, and 
most of the other half was in sight, and no school- 
mistress had yet appeared. Could she have forgotten 
it, and gone another way? Impossible: after thq 


100 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


particular stress he had laid upon her seeming to 
avoid him, and her own promise to go her usual way, 
forgetfulness could hardly be pleaded. And yet what 
other explanation could be offered, unless she had 
deliberately disappointed him ? Perhaps she was ill. 

These and a thousand other thoughts crowded 
through his mind as he continued on his way, until 
at last the village was reached, and no Elinor. 

Hastening around in the direction of the fisher- 
man’s cottage his attention was for a moment at- 
tracted to the remarkable behavior of little Mehita- 
bel Owen, who was standing in the lane opposite the 
Austin abode, and going through a series of antics 
which Robert failed to remember having seen her 
perform before. First she jumped straight into the 
air, both feet together and landing in her original 
tracks. Then she laid violent hands on her face, 
and inserting her thumbs at the ends of her mouth 
and her index fingers at the corners of her eyes, pro- 
duced a most diabolical effect. Then she spat a 
couple of times, hissed venomously, gave a few short 
yelps, and wound up the performance with more 
jumps in the soft mud. 

Looking to see for whose edification this singular 
exhibition was going on, Robert perceived little 
Jimmie perched in a fence corner, quietly regarding 
the spectacle with controlled but evident amazement, 
until his eyes fell upon the new-comer, when he 
jumped down and ran to meet him. 

“ Sister gone to school to-day, Jimmie?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 101 

“ Went early, I suppose ? ” 

“No, not very. Mr. Smith said if she’d wait he’d 
give her a ride over. And so she waited.” 

“ Did they go by the short cut ? ” 

“ No, they went round by the pond.” 

“Who is Mr. Smith?” 

“ Why,” wonderingly, “ he ’s Mr. Smith, that’s all.’* 

“Yes, but is he an old man like — like Mr. Owen, 
ora young man, say like me?” 

“ Oh,” cried the boy gleefully, “he isn’t a bit like 
Mr. Owen ; he ’s ever so much younger. But then,” 
confidentially, “he isn’t a bit like you, you know, 
either.” 

“ How is n’t he like me, Jimmie?” 

“Why,” said the child, hesitatingly, “his hands 
are different, and he don’t have any white in. his 
sleeves, and his voice isn’t like yours, and he chews 
tobacco, and he laughs — Oh, so loud ! ” 

“I guess that will do, Jimmie,” said Robert, at 
the close of this exhaustive description. And leav- 
ing the boy with a remembrance, and dismissing fur- 
ther consideration of Mr. Smith, he went on discon- 
tentedly to the pier and spent the remainder of the 
forenoon watching a whaler getting under way. 


102 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Determined to know what it was that had moved 
Elinor to such utter disregard of her promise, Rob- 
ert again took the road in the afternoon, this time 
intending to regulate his progress so as to meet her 
soon after leaving the school-house — taking Jimmie 
along as a sort of palliative to what, undertaken for 
the second time on the same day, might seem a ques- 
tionable proceeding. 

He continued on to the school-house, however, 
without meeting her, and was about concluding that 
he had been again outwitted, when he perceived 
through the uncurtained window a solitary figure 
still sitting at the teacher’s desk. Entering — while 
Jimmie and the dog raced for a neighboring thicket — 
he discovered the teacher seated at her table, one 
hand supporting her head, and an expression of un- 
utterable sadness prevading her countenance. 

Rising as Robert entered, she stammered out 
some excuse about having remained to correct 
some exercises for which she had not had time dur- 
ing school hours. 

“But you were not so engaged when I came in,” 
said Robert, coldly. In spite of himself he could n’t 
help wondering if she were thinking of her charioteer 
of the morning. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


103 


"True,” she replied, confusedly; “I had allowed 
my thoughts to wander from my work. But I will 
bring them back now,” at the same taking up a 
bundle of papers. 

"Please not,” said Robert, gravely: " at least not 
until you have told me why you failed to keep your 
engagement this morning.” 

" Was it an engagement?” 

"It amounted to that.” 

"I — I did not think of it in that way,” stam- 
mered the girl. And then, nerving herself to the 
task of making some plausible explanation of her 
conduct, she added — "It is not often that I have a 
chance to ride to school, and I thought you would 
be glad for me to improve the opportunity.” And 
then she commenced to color again, feeling that 
somehow she had not bettered matters by assuming 
that degree of interest on his part. 

"If you reasoned in that way,” said Robert, dis- 
contentedly, " I of course have nothing to say. 
But did it not occur to you that I might conclude 
that you had done as you did simply for the pleasure 
of Mr. Smith’s society?” 

"Not if you had ever seen him,” said Elinor, 
quietly. 

" But suppose you had known that I would care : 
would you have done any differently?” 

" How can I tell what I would have done in so 
improbable a case? ’’cried the girl, in a voice ren- 
dered almost sharp by pain as she recalled the per- 
sistent teachings of her father. And then more 


104 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


composedly — “But what a fuss we are making 
over a trifle, and how you must be laughing at my 
earnestness.” 

“ It may seem a trifle to you,” said Robert, “ but 
I assure you it is not that to me.” 

They were standing closely confronting each 
other as he said this, and he had taken her hand 
and she had not withdrawn it. 

“ Elinor,” he continued, speaking with tender 
earnestness, “ ever since I first saw you in your 
father’s house I have carried you in my heart. 
Waking or sleeping you have been there, crowd- 
ing out all other interests, and controlling my life. 
Either you must be the most unconscious of women, 
or you must have perceived how I have sought you ; 
how contented I have been in your presence ; how 
disturbed I have been when failing to see you as I 
had anticipated. Have you thought of this at all ? ” 

“Yes, I have thought of it. But I could not 
know that it was real — that you were sincere.” 

“Do you know it now?” 

“ How can I know it better than before ? ” 

“O Elinor, you must believe it. Can you not 
see what I know must be written on my face ? ” 

Raising her eyes to meet her lover’s, a crimson 
wave suffusing her face from throat to brow, and 
letting her form sway to the touch of the arm that 
was now about her, the girl made answer — “ I do see, 
and I believe.” 

How much further this might have gone, how ir- 
revocably the compact which was sure to carry con- 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA'S VINEYARD. 105 

sternation to the bosom of Mrs. Lynden might then 
and there have been signed and sealed, can never be 
known ; for at that moment the door burst open and 
Jimmie rushed in, breathless from a race across the 
fields, and curious to know what was keeping his sis- 
ter and his friend so late that night. 

The walk home was a quiet one, and for the most 
part unmarked hy conversation. Jimmie kept close 
by his sister’s side, and all attempts to send him off 
on expeditions with the dog proved most lamentable 
failures. Elinor’s eyes would now and then sparkle 
with soft amusement at the total miscarriage of 
Robert’s carefully contrived plans for procuring a 
further tete-a-tete with her, and then her face would 
resume its wonted gravity, while her lover walked 
beside her in comparative content. 

As they neared the house Jimmie ran on ahead to 
investigate some matter which seemed to have ex- 
cited Towser’s interest, and Robert seized the oppor- 
tunity to ask Elinor when he might see her at her 
home. 

The girl hesitated for a moment, just long enough 
to re-arouse Robert’s doubts of the reality of her pro- 
fessed confidence, or of her almost confessed interest 
in him, and then said : — 

“ My father has grown somewhat exacting as his 
health fails, and, though able to take care of him- 
self in the evening as well as daytime, expects 
me to give him the benefit of my company when at 
home. But as soon as I can find an evening when 
he seems willing to do without me — as sometimes 


106 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


when he goes to his room early — I shall be glad to 
see you.” 

This businesslike statement of the situation, un- 
accompanied by any expression of regret, struck 
Robert as being not altogether lover-like, even con- 
sidering what he had come to characterize as the 
peculiar temperament of Elinor Austin. Forcing 
himself to be content with it, however, he then asked 
by what token he was to know when such a time had 
come, and received an answer whose practical pur- 
pose somewhat revived his drooping spirits : 

“You will know by a light which I will place in 
the upper window, which you can see from the 
veranda of your boarding place.” 

And covering him with a sweep of her eyes which 
made his heart rejoice, she had disappeared in the 
house, and he was left to the rapture of his own bliss- 
ful meditations. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 107 


CHAPTER XVITL 

The Ladies’ Literary League had been engaged in 
giving a series of “ sociables ” for the laudable pur- 
pose of replenishing its diminished treasury, and the 
series was about drawing to a close. 

The “ sociables ” were not a particularly exciting 
variety of entertainment, but they furnished an 
opportunity for the gathering together of young peo- 
ple — any of whom could find admission on the pay- 
ment of a nickel and the promise of good behavior — 
and there was always a little mild refreshment in the 
way of chicken or fish “chowder,” cake and coffee, 
with occasionally ice cream ; any and all of which 
were to be had for a money consideration ; and at 
the close there was generally the crowning glory of a 
general auction, at which such remains of the banquet 
as were transportable were knocked off to the high- 
est bidder. 

The company was by no means confined to young 
people, but there was always a considerable number 
of middle-aged housekeepers, whose one delight, and 
apparently the chief motive of their presence, was an 
investigation of the cake department. 

By an exhaustive interrogation of the commiftee of 
arrangements, supplemented by skilfully propounded 
inquiries addressed to the several salesladies, these 


108 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


indefatigable women would inform themselves mi- 
nutely as to the origin of every loaf of cake on exhib- 
ition ; and then, though their own pantries were 
bursting with similar products of the culinary art, 
and though the treasury of the Literary League was a 
matter as to which they gave themselves little con- 
cern, each of those devoted women would provide 
herself with a carefully identified wedge from every 
blessed loaf and bear it in triumph to her own house, 
to be thereafter nibbled and criticised in sundry din- 
ing and sitting rooms throughout the town. 

The meeting this week was at Mrs. Bearse’s — 
there was a Mr. Bearse, but Mrs. B. was always rec- 
ognized as the head of the house. Mrs. Bearse was 
not a member of the League, neither was her daughter. 
If inquired of by their familiars — at least prior to 
the time of this particular meeting — they would 
have tossed their heads and remarked in not very 
grammatical phrase that they “ did n’t want nothin’ to 
do with it.” 

But Mrs. Bearse was a resolute woman, whose 

whole existence had thus far been an unremitting 

© 

struggle to obtain for her family some sort of social 
recognition in the community. It had been hard 
work. Handicapped by her own illiteracy and the 
indifference of her plodding husband, the difficul- 
ties of her situation had at times seemed almost insu- 
perable, which even the united efforts of herself and 
her now grown-up and somewhat more cultivated 
daughter could hardly avail to overcome. But 
though often discouraged — a woman with a better 


A romance of Martha’s vineyard. 109 

understanding of her own “outs’’ would have given 
up the fight — she never faltered but pressed patiently 
on, unmindful of rebuffs, oblivious to snubs — which 
her own deficiencies often actually saved her from 
seeing — looking forward with an eye single to the 
one hope of her life, a place perhaps half way up the 
social ladder of the little world about her. 

Believing that deeds, if there are only enough of 
them, may be made to offset the lack of inherent 
recommendations to favor, Mrs. Bearse made it her 
business to be active and conspicuous in every good 
work. A member of the church, she attended dili- 
gently on all its appointed ceremonials, and con- 
tributed liberally according to her means for the 
maintenance of its cause. As tender-hearted as 
the average of women, but not more so, she flew to 
the relief of the afflicted and distressed as though 
her life depended on it, and her name was often in 
the mouth of the people as of one abounding in 
good works. Particularly was she active in all 
charitable or otherwise public enterprises where she 
might find herself associated with the “ best people ” 
of the place, and where she might feel, for at least a 
fleeting moment, that she was on an even footing with 
the greatest of them. 

Her house also was always at the disposal of any 
for church or charitable gatherings — it was almost 
pathetic to see how much was expected from this 
“ corralling ” of the longed-for society within the 
domestic walls — and in this way it happened that 
the Literary League found itself encamped on the 


110 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


evening in question within the precincts of the 
Bearse abode. One member of the League had 
been taken suddenly ill, another was absent, the 
family of another had been visited by death, the 
remainder had already served in their turn, and 
hearing of their dilemma, Mrs. Bearse with charac- 
teristic promptness had thrown herself and house 
into the breach. 

All the members of the League heretofore men- 
tioned in these pages were present on this occasion, 
as well as others not so honored. Miss Guppy, 
decorated with a new and elaborate chestnut friz- 
front, was looking more charmingly youthful than 
ever, and more than ever entitled to rank as one of 
the v girls.” Puss Taber, brim-full of mischief but 
never malicious, held her little court as usual, irre- 
sistible as ever in spite of the admitted fact that not 
one of her admirers stood the remotest chance as 
against the handsome parson. Miss Cleveland, 
elegant and gracious, moved about in her tranquil 
way, intoxicating her hostess with a brief remark 
now and again, and tilling the daughter with de- 
spair of ever attaining to that perfection of aristo- 
cratic ease. Miss Hoyt was on hand, ready for a 
row at the shortest notice — quick-witted and 
warm-hearted, but full of quills as a hedgehog. 
Miss Maynard, a modest and prepossessing young 
lady who had recently brought to her island home 
the results of years of musical exploration under the 
best masters of Europe, was present and had good- 
naturedly consented to pound the piano as re- 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. Ill 

quired, and Miss Bellingham, a stately young 
person with a fondness for the violin, was expected 
to do duty on that favorite instrument. 

All these and many others — including a sprink- 
ling of the middle-aged ladies already mentioned — 
were present, representing the feminine portion of 
the community, and together made up, as the county 
paper remarked on the following day, “a most ac- 
complished and attractive assemblage.” On the 
other hand the men, as is usual on such occasions, 
made but a slim showing, a few callow youngsters 
who seemed nailed to the hallway, and Mr. Clar 
ence Claridge, making up for most of the evening 
the sum total of the masculine element. 

The gentleman named, however, should not be 
permitted to pass, even at this stage of our history, 
without some more particular notice than the mere 
mention of the fact that he was there. 

Mr. Claridge was a blonde young man, thirty 
years of age more or less, who had been graduated 
as a physician, but had n’t condescended to practice 
very much as yet. He talked quite grandly of mat- 
ters relating to “ the profession,” and how certain 
methods of proceeding were regarded by that col- 
lective body ; but as he was in the habit of intimat- 
ing that the curing of the ordinary ills of ordinary 
mortals was rather low business for a gentleman, 
the secret of his delay in getting to work may per- 
haps be understood. 

Mr. Claridge’s views of the practice of medicine 
from a gentlemanly standpoint — which he subse- 


112 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


quently took occasion to modify — were not the 
only peculiar notions entertained by him. He 
attended church with tolerable regularity, but he 
wanted it distinctly understood that it was not from 
any special religious bias, but because he considered 
it a proper example to set before average humanity, 
and a thing which every gentleman ought to do. 
He was a member of a political party, but he wanted 
his friends to take notice that because he chose to 
associate himself with that party, it did n’t follow 
that he approved of all the acts of his political asso- 
ciates ; indeed, from the frequency of his criticisms, 
it might fairly be inferred that he considered them 
generally wrong, and that he was held to a per- 
functory allegiance by other considerations than 
those. of political righteousness. With little or no 
visible means of subsistence, he desired all men to 
know that he fared sumptuously every day, and 
talked freely and largely of the best hotels and 
brands of cigars, and his favorite tailors, and his 
habits when “ in town.” 

Nevertheless Mr. Claridge was undeniably well 
born and fairly well bred, good looking, a compan- 
ionable associate, popular with the ladies, and — 
barring his little peculiarities, which harmed 
nobody — a very good fellow. 

This was the assemblage on which Robert, after 
his customary and so far fruitless survey of the 
fisherman’s cottage from the Owen mansion, ac- 
companied by his friend Sewell, descended at about 
nine o’clock. 


A ROMANCE. .OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 113 

With the entrance of these two gentlemen, a lit- 
tle ripple of excitement ran over the assembled 
company. Mi. Claridge, who had been entertain- 
ing a circle of ladies with a graphic description of 
exploits in which he had figured at college, suddenly 
found his auditors losing interest in his narration, 
and directing their attention towards the new-com- 
ers. Miss Taber, who had been paralyzing a couple 
of bashful lads whom she had surprised in a corner, 
all at once developed symptons of fluttering absent- 
mindedness, and became less and less coherent in 
her teasing of the boys. Mrs. Bearse and daughter 
came beaming from the kitchen where they had been 
giving directions in a matter of general interest, 
and expressed their unfeigned delight at the pres- 
ence of this pair of celebrities, — Robert and Sewell 
both recognizing at a glance the young lady whose 
virgin hopes had been so plainly depicted on her 
countenance at the ministerial jubilee in the early 
summer. 

By the time the two gentlemen had greeted their 
acquaintances, and been presented to those whom 
they had not met before, the hour for refreshments 
had arrived, and the first relay of guests repaired to 
the dining-room, Mr. Sewell taking in Miss Taber, 
and Robert following with Miss Hoyt. A long table 
was set in the centre of the room, for the purposes 
of the chowder, while from another, set in a sort of 
recess, cake and coffee were dispensed to all who 
desired to purchase. Behind this table sat three 
young ladies, and one of them was — Miss Elinor 
Austin ! 


114 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


How Robert got through the period of refreshment 
and the remainder of the evening ; how he nerved 
himself to make relevant replies to Miss Hoyt’s light 
badinage, as she rallied him on his lack of appetite ; 
how he managed to properly applaud the several 
instrumental performances and Mr. Claridge’s song ; 
and how, having bade his hostess good night, and 
performed the duty of seeing a couple of unprotected 
females to their homes, he at last found himself in 
his own room at the Owens’, need not be particular- 
ized here. Suffice it to say that he did get there at 
last, and, after pacing the floor for half the night, 
repaired to a couch, which held no sleep for him until 
day had well nigh dawned. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 115 


CHAPTER XIX. 

The morning found Robert in no better frame of 
mind than on his retirement the night before. A 
terrible heart-sickness possessed him, over which 
indignation for a long time vainly tried to get the 
mastery. 

Was the girl entirely without heart? he asked 
himself again and again. Was she incapable of un- 
derstanding the consuming passion of which he was 
the victim? Could it be possible that the mere 
opportunity of meeting a few people at an evening 
gathering had counted for more, with her, than the 
appointment which he had been patiently waiting for 
her more than a week to keep? Might it be that, 
in spite of certain advantages of which he felt him- 
self to be possessed, there was some village swain 
who proved a more congenial companion to her, — 
like the young man, for instance, whom Jimmie had 
so vividly described, — and that, when he was not 
present to plead his own cause, the girl’s natural 
predilections asserted themselves? But then, if she 
really did n’t care for him, why give him that parting 
look from her eloquent eyes, — a glance that set his 
heart beating, even now, as he remembered it? 
Why deliberately make appointments which she even 
then must have intended not to keep? And so on, 


116 


THE islanders; 


and on, until lio had worked himself into a state 
where resentment l>ud gotten the better of every 
other emotion, and then he sat down and wrote her 
a letter. 

And this is what he wrote : — 

“ I have waited until morning, before writing, in order not to 
act hastily. I still care enough for your good opinion not to 
have you think of me as behaving like a boy in a huff. I have 
waited many evenings for the promised signal, believing mean- 
while that you withheld it only through the exactions of your 
father. No signal has rewarded me but, on the very flrst occa- 
sion that offers, I find you enjoying yourself in your own way, 
utterly regardless of the disappointment which you have caused 
me. I am not making much of a trifle, but am forced to feel, 
and bitterly feel, in what different estimation we hold each other. 
For I know that, on my own part, the company of angels would 
not have won me from keeping faith with you had the situation 
been reversed. 

“ I have tried to think that perhaps you still doubted my 
sincerity, and, in fear of compromising yourself, had taken the 
course which has now so often tried me. But I cannot credit 
it. You must have seen that almost ever since I came to this 
place I have lived only for you, — and, more than that, in the 
face of opposition of which you know nothing. And for what? 
For the sake of one who has consented to be served, who was 
willing to be worshipped, who has even at times appeared to 
reciprocate the love lavished upon her, but who I am now 
convinced has never had one real heart-throb for my sake. 

“ I did not intend to complain, and I cannot believe, even now, 
that you are heartless. As I recall all that has passed between 
us, — as I feel again the sweet presence that seemed to bring 
heaven to me while it was near, — I cannot altogether disbelieve 
in the true womanliness that always impressed me so strongly. 
It may not be a lack of capacity for loving, but that I have failed 
to sound its depths. Some other man will doubtless do that, and 
you will be happy in your own way. Good by and God bless 
you.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA'S VINEYARD. 117 


This epistle, in which love, chagrin and pain 
seemed mingled in about equal proportions, Robert 
hastily sealed and dispatched, without giving him- 
self time to repent of his action. 

It was now his intention to bring his vacation to a 
close at once — that is, as soon as it could be prop- 
erly managed so that his departure should not look 
like a flight. Moreover there were many agreeable 
acquaintances among the townspeople whom he could 
not leave without a word of farewell, so that two or 
three days at least must elapse before they could 
break up. 

Full of these thoughts his mind naturally turned 
to the water, on which so much of his time had been 
passed, and as it was a fine day he strolled down to 
the pier, thinking that if he should chance to fall in 
with an outward-bound boatman, he would take one 
more sail before returning to the city, which would 
henceforth be his home. 

As he neared the landing he could scarce repress 
an exclamation of surprise at seeing Capt. Austin, 
leaning somewhat heavily on his stick, but looking 
better than he had ever expected to see him again. 

He seemed embarrassed as Robert approached, 
but returned the latter’s courteous salutation with 
this remark : — 

“ It may surprise you to see me here ; but the day 
is so fine, and I am feeling so much stronger than 
usual, that I prevailed upon my daughter — who 
has grown somewhat tyrannical of late — to permit 
me to come down and look at my boat.” 


118 


THE islanders; 


“Then you still retain possession of your craft,” 
said Robert, looking toward the boat which lay at 
her accustomed moorings. 

“Yes, the season was so nearly spent when my 
health began to fail that her owner did n’t think it 
worth while to make any different arrangement for 
the present. And besides,” added the fisherman, 
with a pathetic smile, “ it was possible that I would 
regain my health, and be able to run her as before.” 

“Indeed, I hope you will,” said Robert, earnestly, 
his momentary resentment against the old man van- 
ishing at sight of his weakness. 

“ Thank you for your kind wishes,” replied Aus- 
tin ; “ but I know now that that can never be. How- 
ever,” he added, more cheerfully, “I am going to 
make the most of the strength which this bright day 
has brought me, and if I can get anybody to lend a 
hand will take a turn out by the light.” 

Robert was thunderstruck at this proposition. It 
seemed to him like flying in the face of Providence 
for this tottering old man to think of venturing out 
on the water, even with a competent hand to aid him 
— which he knew could hardly be had, as the boat- 
men were out almost to a man. How to remonstrate 
without incurring the fisherman’s displeasure, how- 
ever, was a question not so easily answered. At 
length he said, speaking with evident embarrass- 
ment : — 

“Do you think your daughter would approve of 
such an excursion, when you have been so ill and 
must still be so weak ? ” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 119 

“ My daughter is not yet the director of my move- 
ments altogether,” replied Capt. Austin, coldly ; 
“ and if she were would probably not object to my 
taking a short sail on such a day as this, any more 
than to my riding in a carriage if I had one. I shall 
take a man along if I can find one, or even a boy who 
will follow my instructions will answer.” 

Robert debated within himself. “ It is preposter- 
ous for him to think of such a thing, and I ought not 
to countenance it. But how to prevent it? I can’t 
go and warn Miss Austin myself, though that does n’t 
matter, for before I or any messenger would have 
time to reach her at her school he may have taken 
some bare-legged boy into his boat and started off 
to almost certain destruction. Rather than leave 
him to do that I had better offer my own services, 
and make the trip as short as possible. And yet my 
heart misgives me.” Then turning to his companion 
he said aloud : — 

“If you will accept my poor services I shall be 
happy to ship under you, and will do my best to fol- 
low your direction.” 

“ If you are willing to go,” said Capt. Austin, “I 
will gladly resign the boat to your control. I am 
told that you have become a skilful boatman.” 

“ I will do my best,” replied Robert, smilingly. 
And so saying he aided the old man into the boat, 
and having cast off and hoisted sail they were soon 
on their way out of the harbor. 

For a time nothing was said by either. The elder 
man was drinking in the delights of wind, and sun, 


120 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


and sea, to which for so many days he had been a 
stranger, while the younger, with hand abstractedly 
guiding their course was wrapped in his own bitter 
reflections. And so they sailed on, through a fleet 
of coastwise schooners lying at -anchor, past a reve- 
nue cutter just making port, past the headlands 
guarding the entrance to the harbor, past the steamer 
making her regular trip up from Nantucket, until at 
last they found themselves well out in the open 
sound. 

Meanwhile the freshening breeze, and the rush of 
the water surging away on either side of the cleav- 
ing bow, seemed to have acted upon the feeble fish- 
erman like a tonic, and by his kindling eye and more 
alert attitude Robert could perceive a return of 
something of his old “joy of the sea.” 

But he was not prepared for what presently trans- 
pired. Seeing that for some reason the sail did not 
set exactly as it should, before Robert could prevent 
him Capt. Austin had risen from his seat nearly 
amidship and started forward. He had not taken 
three steps, however, before a sudden giddiness 
seized him, and swaying an instant he shot over the 
side and plunged head first into the water. 

The wind was now blowing a fair breeze dead 
astern, and the tide was about slack. Believing after 
an instant’s calculation that he could not bring the 
boat about in time to be of any use, Robert sprang 
forward with lightning quickness and let go the 
anchor, and in another instant had thrown oft 1 his 
coat and jumped overboard. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 121 

The fisherman’s plunge had revived him, and with 
his little remaining strength he managed to keep 
above water until Robert reached him, though in 
another moment he must have succumbed to exhaus- 
tion. 

“Hold on to my shoulders,” cried Robert, “and 
we will make our way back to the boat. Keep up 
good heart. It will be slow work, but we shall get 
there.” 

And it was slow work. More than once, as he 
labored painfully on, dragged down by the weight of 
two men freighted with their wet clothes, Robert 
felt as though he must give up the fight, and they 
must drown together. “ Little loss,” he said to him- 
self. “ This old man must soon die anyhow, and as 
for me I don’t know as there is anything particular 
to live for, young as I am.” And then he thought 
of the mother waiting for him at home, the light of 
whose life would go out in darkness if he failed to 
return, and he nerved himself to continue the struggle. 

Only once did the fisherman speak, and then he 
uttered words to which the swimmer paid little heed 
at the time, but which he afterward recalled and 
wondered what might be their significance. Per- 
ceiving how painfully Robert was laboring he said 
huskily in his ear : “ It ’s no use — let me go — Jim- 
mie — he ’s my grandson — my grandson — help him 
if you can”: and would have let go his hold. But 
Robert cried out to him with such a terrible voice to 
hold on that he obeyed. 

At last, however, more dead than alive, they 


122 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


reached the boat, into which Robert, with his hand 
grasping Austin’s coat, managed to scramble, and 
then with infinite labor, and with little help from the 
latter, succeeded in getting the old man in. 

Then, having first covered his companion with his 
coat and with such other dry material as he found 
in the locker, and having compelled him to drink a 
little brandy which he chanced to have with him, 
Robert hastily got in his anchor and bore away for 
home. 

Reaching the landing after a quick run, the wind 
having hauled to another quarter, he secured the boat 
without delay, and hailing a passing carriage con- 
veyed his charge to his home, where he made him as 
comfortable as possible — Elinor had not yet returned 

from school — and then hastened to his boarding 

© 

place, whence Mrs. Owen and the maid at once sal- 
lied forth to look after the sick man. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 123 


CHAPTER XX. 

Everything was done for Capt. Austin — Robert 
having so directed — that money and attention could 
accomplish, but to no purpose. The exposure and 
exhaustion incident to the day’s experiences had 
brought about a relapse, and a return of his old 
malady in aggravated form, and in less than a week 
he was laid to rest in the village burial ground, and 
his daughter and Jimmie were left alone. 

And they were sincere mourners. The child, not 
so much perhaps, because he was a child ; but to 
Elinor the loss of the only human being to whom she 
had been accustomed to look up, seemed irreparable. 
Stern though he was by nature, and self-absorbed in 
his later years, she had loved him with all the filial 
strength of her nature, and his growing helplessness 
and dependence upon her had only intensified her 
affection. Now he was gone, and the boy was all that 
was left that she could call her own — at least that 
was the way it seemed to her until other events came 
in to turn the current of her thoughts. 

Meanwhile, Robert knew nothing of what was 
transpiring at the Austin house, or of the change 
that had taken place there. The terrible ordeal 
through which he had passed on that fateful day, his 
superhuman exertions in the water and the time that 


124 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


elapsed before he could change his wet clothing, 
brought on chills and fever; and when he retired to 
his bed that night it was to remain there for many a 
weary day. 

Long and violently the fever raged. Day after 
day saw no improvement, and the heart of the faith- 
ful mother sank within her as she saw her boy wast- 
ing with disease and his strength diminishing with 
each succeeding sun. Over and over he lived the 
experiences of that dreadful day — struggling in the 
water, dragging himself into the boat, and agonizing 
as he labored to pull the fisherman in after him. 
Then again the scene would change and he would 
reach out his hands and call for Elinor, with a yearn- 
ing in his face and a wistful look in his eyes that 
would have melted a stone. Always when not in the 
boat that name would recur, again and again with 
that look of longing entreaty. The hired nurse 
took no notice of it, and Mrs. Lynden — who had 
never heard Miss Austin’s Christian name, and to 
whom Robert had not mentioned the girl at all since 
their conversation heretofore recorded — assumed 
that it was his old love whom he had in mind (though 
addressing her in an unfamiliar way), and that he 
was living over the life when she was the idol of his 
heart. But one day he spoke the full name — “ Eli- 
nor Austin” — and then the mother awoke to the 
true state of her son’s heart, and to an understand- 
ing of what was preying upon his unsettled mind. 

Even then she could not bring herself to be gov- 
erned by it. All the considerations which she had 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 125 

urged upon her son’s attention with such earnestness 
— and in part with such irresistible logic — occurred 
to her, and she could not make up her mind to expose 
him further, and under such perilous circumstances, 
to the danger from which she supposed he had escaped 
and froni which she now feared so much. He would 
get well — he must get well — and then they would 
leave this place to which she now wished they had 
never come, and in other scenes he would forget his 
infatuation, and be guided by the social considera- 
tions and standards which she believed to be of par- 
amount importance. That he, the son who had never 
crossed her in any particular, would deliberately per- 
sist in following the dictates of his own heart against 
her wishes, never for a moment entered her mind. 

But at last she could stand it no longer. His 
incessant cries for that one name, and the dumb 
entreaty in the worn face, were more than she could 
bear. And so, taking Mrs. Owen into her confidence, 
she obtained an interview with Miss Austin, and 
stated the case exactly as it stood. 

She told her that she believed her son’s life de- 
pended upon the request she had come to proffer be- 
ing granted. She frankly admitted that it was dis- 
tasteful to her. After one look at Elinor she forbore 
to express the hope that no advantage would be taken 
of it, but threw herself upon Miss Austin’s gener- 
osity to grant this favor in which she believed was 
involved her son’s recovery. 

The result was that after a few minutes considera- 
tion Elinor coldly announced her willingness to 


126 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


undertake this novel mission, and the interview 
closed. The substitute teacher, procured during 
Capt. Austin’s last illness, was continued, and on the 
following day Miss Austin was installed at the Owen 
mansion. 

Her position was a singular one. A conlfortable 
room had been fitted up for her reception, where she 
passed most of her time, subject to call when needed. 
As often as the paroxysm of delirium recurred Elinor 
would be summoned and would take her place by the 
bedside. No sooner had she taken the sick man’s 
hand in hers, and placed another cool hand upon his 
burning brow, than a look of ineffable content over« 
spread his countenance, his eyes would close, and 
the deep sleep of physical and mental exhaustion 
would speedily follow. Then she would rise and 
pass noiselessly from the room. 

From this time on, the patient slowly but steadily 
improved, and at the end of a week the fever had 
turned and the doctor announced that there would be 
no recurrence of delirium. 

Mrs. Lynden thereupon sought Miss Austin to 
acquaint her with the situation and inform her as del- 
icately as possible that her services were no longer 
necessary ; but discovered to her surprise that that 
young lady had already learned the fact from the 
doctor, and bidding Mrs. Owen a hasty adieu had 
left the house. There remained no alternative but 
to follow her, which she did on the following day. 

To say that Mrs. Lynden dreaded this second in- 
terview is putting it very mildly indeed. The royal 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 127 

bearing of this young person, both at their first meet- 
ing and in their occasional encounters at Mrs. Owen’s, 
had impressed her very strongly, and a kind of awe 
had taken the place of her former attitude of dis- 
paragement — which, while it by no means reconciled 
her to the girl as a prospective daughter-in-law, 
filled her with dismay at the thought of meeting her 
again for a final settlement. But she was not a 
woman to shrink from her duty, and so she repaired 
to the fisherman’s cottage with her mind braced to 
meet whatever might befall. 

Her tap at the door was answered by Elinor her- 
self, who flushed a little at first, but evincing no 
other signs of disturbance ushered her visitor into 
the little parlor. As the latter entered she caught a 
glimpse of Jimmie. 

“What a lovely little boy ! ” And then, gently — 
“He must be dearer than ever to you now.” 

“Yes, Jimmie and I are all in all to each other 
since his — since my father died.” 

Mrs. Lynden noted the hesitation, and the warm 
feeling which the circumstances of the last few days 
had tended to quicken in her heart toward Elinor was 
instantly chilled. After an embarrassing pause — 

“I have come, Miss Austin, to make the feeble 
acknowledgment of your invaluable services which 
your sudden departure prevented me making at 
home.” 

Mrs. Lynden realized that this was rather a stately 
form of address to employ to a young lady who had 
probably just saved her son’s life ; but to save her 


128 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


own she did n’t know how to better it, without back- 
ing down and out from the position she had taken 
and the course she had intended to pursue. 

“There was no need,” replied Elinor, quietly. 
“The place” — she smiled with just a suspicion of 
bitterness as she used the word — “ was an easy one, 
and your offer to settle with the substitute teacher 
relieves you from all obligation.” 

“ But I cannot consent to view what you have done 
for us simply as so much service rendered for so 
much money,” cried Mrs. Lynden, in genuine dis- 
tress. 

“Pardon me, then, if I ask how you intend to view 
it,” questioned the girl, the proud face giving no hint 
of the tempest raging within. 

Mrs. Lynden, driven to the wall by this straight- 
forward assault, saw no alternative but to capitulate 
at once and confess her real purpose. 

“ What I meant was,” she went on confusedly, 
“that it was not a service that could be measured by 
the ordinary standards — so much labor for so much 
money, or so many days at so much a day — but 
was entitled to a recompense that could only be lim- 
ited by the ability of the beneficiary to render it.” 

“In money?” 

“Yes,” replied Mrs. Lynden, desperately; “in 
money.” 

“Then,” retorted Elinor, her eyes flashing and 
bosom heaving as she rose from her seat, “ it is need- 
less to prolong this interview further. Consider that 
you have made me the most liberal offer that your 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


129 


wealth will warrant, and that the same is duly appre- 
ciated, but has been respectfully declined.” 

Mrs. Lynden was nonplussed. Cultured woman 
that she was, and with some experience in the ways 
of the social world, she was compelled to admit that 
this comparatively untutored girl who stood defiantly 
there had put her to shame in this passage at arms, 
and remained in triumphant possession of the field. 
But there was no retreating from the path that she 
had marked out for herself without giving up every- 
thing. And so, addressing herself once more to Eli- 
nor, and formulating a few phrases expressive of her 
sense of indebtedness and of her desire to do some- 
thing now or hereafter in recognition of it, Mrs. Lyn- 
den retreated in as good order as could be expected 
under the circumstances. 

Left alone, Elinor first solaced herself with the 
feminine luxury of a burst of tears. Then swiftly 
reviewing the scene which had just been enacted, she 
was covered with confusion as the question arose in 
her mind, “What could his mother have thought was 
my motive in pressing her so, as to the kind of com- 
pensation she expected to bestow? Wouldn’t she 
naturally suspect I was trying to draw her out with 
reference to her son’s interest in me? And yet 
nothing could be further from the truth. I was only 
determined she should declare her true purpose at 
once, and so save useless circumlocution. I don’t 
care anything about her — and I am not sure that I 
do for anybody but Jimmie ; but I can’t endure that 
anybody should think that I would descend to such 


130 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


an unwomanly proceeding as my conduct must have 
appeared to indicate.” 

As for Mrs. Lynden, nothing of this kind crossed 
her mind. Her only thought as she took her crest- 
fallen way homeward, was that if ever there was 
a plebeian girl who looked a princess of the blood, 
that girl was Elinor Austin, 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 131 


CHAPTER XXI. 

“ Mother,” said Robert one morning soon after the 
interview just recorded, and when he had so far con- 
valesced as to be permitted to converse at will : 
“ Who watched with me while I was so very sick?’’ 

“There were several of us, first and last,” replied 
Mrs. Lynden smilingly. “ Sometimes your mother, 
sometimes the nurse, again, perhaps, Mrs. Owen, or 
others who might happen to volunteer for the relief 
of any. You never lacked for care, my son, and 
have cause to be grateful for the kind interest your 
friends took in your case.” 

“I realize it. But mother, were n’t there any 
others than those you have named, and besides peo- 
ple who are in the habit of coming here ? ” 

“Yes, Mr. Sewell sat with you one or two even- 
ings, when the fever was at its height, and when you 
failed to recognize anybody.” 

“ That was kind of Sewell. But, mother,” per- 
sisted the invalid, “weren’t there others — wasn't 
there any woman or girl whom you have n’t 
named ? ” 

Mrs. Lynden could n’t bring herself to tell a delib- 
erate lie, but she dreaded the effect upon her son of 
a plain statement of the truth. 

“There may have been others,” she said, guard- 
edly. “You know I could not be always near you.” 


132 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


Robert had unbounded confidence in his mother, 
and would not have believed it posssible that she 
could deceive him, even in the minutest particular. 
And so he refrained from further questioning, and 
continued : — 

“Perhaps it was in my dreams, but there were 
times when I seemed overwhelmed by the multitude 
of images that passed before me, and the thick-com- 
ing fancies that crowded my brain. Sometimes 
scenes of unutterable horror, again a terrible strug- 
gle for life against frightful odds, or still again a 
recurrence of the earlier experiences of my life of 
which you know, and of the later ones with which 
you are less familiar. And then when it seemed 
that my brain would burst under the intolerable 
strain, and that I must cry out in my agony, there 
would seem to be a shadowy presence glide noise- 
lessly up to my bedside, and a cool and gentle touch 
would be laid upon my forehead, and then all at once 
the frightful images would vanish, the exhausting 
struggles would cease, and in their place come 
tranquillity. And then, mother, — and this is the 
strangest thing about it, and you must bear with me 
if I tell you, — I would fall into a deep sleep and 
dream that Elinor Austin sat by my bedside, holding 
my hand in hers. Always she came to me in my 
dreams ; in the sleep that followed the advent of the 
ministering spirit of whom I have just told you, she 
and no other — and I would awaken with the sense 
of her presence so strong upon me that it was hard 
to believe she had not been actually there.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 133 

“ There is no accounting for what one sees in 
dreams,” said Mrs. Lyndon carelessly; “ especially 
when falling asleep after the exhaustion of delirium. 
And now let us talk of something else. The doctor 
thinks that by the end of another week y if nothing 
unforeseen occurs, you will be able to make the 
journey home.” 

“Very well,” said Robert, wearily. 

He had not yet become strong enough to take a 
very lively interest in anything past, present, or to 
come; and now that he had decided — as he had 
after the party at Mrs. Bearse’s — that there could be 
nothing further between Miss Austin and himself, 
there seemed to be no motive for delaying their 
departure a single day longer than was necessary. 
He realized also that if he waited until he was fully 
recovered and able to walk about town, he would 
feel obliged to call upon a number of friends and 
acquaintances, with whom he would be compelled 
to go over the whole history of his adventures in the 
boat and subsequent illness, and this he knew would 
be only a weariness to the flesh. And so there 
seemed to him no reason for opposing his mother’s 
desire for as speedy a departure from the Vineyard 
as possible. 

And accordingly, one pleasant morning about a 
week later, Robert Lynden and his mother bade 
adieu to the island village where they had sojourned 
for nearly half a year, and in the evening of the 
same day found themselves once more at their own 
home. 


134 


THE islanders; 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The events which had transpired since the sailing 
excursion which had had so tragical an ending had, 
for the time being, crowded out of the mind of the 
most conspicuous figure in that day’s history all 
recollection of the minor occurrences incident to the 
mishap itself. 

Now, however, as his strength returned and his 
mind became less occupied with himself and his own 
condition, Robert found his thoughts recurring to 
what the old man had said to him, while they were 
in the water, about Jimmie, — diis appeal for help 
for the little hoy. 

At first, his only thought was a query as to 
whether or not it was incumbent upon him to take 
any notice of the fisherman’s request. There was no 
point of view from which it could be argued that the 
hoy had any claim upon him, and it seemed highly 
quixotic for him to think of burdening himself with 
the care and education of one who was bound to him 
neither by ties of kinship nor by any possible appli- 
cation of the logic of events. 

Still, he could not help feeling his heart warm 
toward the bright little fellow, left so early orphaned, 
and with so precarious a dependence for the future. 
First the mother, taken before the baby boy had 


A ROMArffcE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 135 

learned to know the mother love ; and now the 
father, gone to his account after commending to his 
care his twice orphaned son. 

“ Son ! ” It suddenly flashed across his mind that 
the old man had said “ grandson ” — had even uttered 
it twice during that struggle in the water, when he 
believed his hour had come. What could be the 
meaning of that new title? Had the old man, with 
death looking him in the face, felt that the time had 
come for throwing off all disguises, and proclaiming 
the truth for the benefit of whom it might concern ? 
And if so, and the fisherman was in possession of 
his senses, and had then for the first time stated the 
true relationship which subsisted ^between himself 
and the boy, what dark passage in the life of some- 
body did it betoken? And then, by a sudden 
transition, he recalled the Englishman’s interest in 
the child, and his careful inquiries as to the boy’s 
parentage, and then, finally, his despairing question 
as to whether there appeared to be any concealment, 
or anything mysterious or unaccountable about the 
family. Was it possible that, if Fairfax had not 
been thrown off by the honest but possibly mistaken 
answers to his questions, the end of his long and 
unhappy quest might have been found in this 
apparently humble household? 

The more he pondered upon it the more impressed 
he became with the conviction that something ought 
to be done to remedy whatever error, if any, he had 
permitted the Englishman to fall into by wrongful 
answers to his inquiries. There was the strong 


136 


THE ISLANDERS J 


resemblance to his lost wife, which had at first at- 
tracted Fairfax’s attention, and there was the fact of 
the coming of this family from New York, at about 
the time Fairfax lost them there, — the father a sea- 
man, accompanied by two daughters, or at least two 
young women, one of whom was a mother. Surely 
here was ample material for constructing a very 
plausible theory connecting Jimmie’s dead mother 
with the wife of the bereaved Englishman. 

Dreading, however, to arouse hopes which might 
only be blasted upon investigation, Robert decided, — 
though sorely against his will, — to first write to Miss 
Austin, with a view to obtaining some possible ad- 
mission from her which might aid him in deciding 
whether or not it was expedient to communicate with 
Fairfax. 

Accordingly, the next mail carried to Elinor a 
cold but courteous note, alluding to her father’s 
appeal to him in the boy’s behalf, signifying his 
desire to carry into effect, as far as he was able, 
Capt. Austin’s wishes, and asking her to indicate 
in what way he might, — with due deference to her 
own plans, — be most useful to the child. He also 
alluded to the relationship which Capt. Austin had 
recognized, in speaking of the child, and suggested 
that it might be desirable now, for the boy’s own 
sake, that his true name and position should be 
understood. 

In a few days Robert received from Elinor a brief 
note equally cool and businesslike with his own, 
thanking him for the interest he had manifested in 


A ROMANCE' OP MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 137 

Jimmie, but expressing the hope that she should be 
able to take care of the boy unaided, and gratefully 
declining the offer of assistance. Capt. Austin’s 
allusion to the child as his grandson she dismissed 
with the simple comment that her father was prob- 
ably not in his right mind when he spoke. 

Somewhat rebuffed by the tone of absolute uncon- 
cern which characterized this letter, Robert was for 
a time undecided whether to regard it as evidence 
that Miss Austin knew of nothing that would explain 
the grandson theory — which, considering her age, 
would seem to indicate that there was nothing to 
know and further inquiry would be useless — or that 
pride, or a misapprehension of facts, or both, had 
persuaded her to retain within her own breast what- 
ever knowledge she had. His final decision, how- 
ever, was to send to Mr. Fairfax a simple statement 
of the facts, without suggestion or advice, and leave 
him to act upon it or not as he saw fit. Accordingly, 
on the following day he despatched a note to the 
Englishman’s address in New York, and a similar 
one to a London address which the latter had given 
him, and then turned his attention to other matters 
until an answer to his communication should be 
received. 


138 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Literary League is again in session at Mrs. 
Bearse’s — this time “ as of right,” that worthy lady 
having at lost succeeded in procuring for her daughter 
an election to membership in the sacred circle. The 
talk is of a coming entertainment in the village hall. 

“I am trying to decide,” says the mature Miss 
Guppy, with drooping eyelids, “ whether we girls 
ought to patronize it.” 

“Why shouldn’t we?” fires up Miss Hoyt, ready 
mad. 

“Why, to be sure?” echoes most of the others. 

“ Have n’t you heard ? ” faintly articulates the first 
speaker, resting her fan on her virgin bosom, and 
with eyes still on the floor. 

“ No — what ? ” — all in chorus. 

“You know the name of the play, don’t you?” 
asks Miss Guppy, roused to unusual animation by 
the extraordinary dulness of her hearers. 

“ Yes, — ‘ The Castaway.’ ” 

“Well, do you know who has volunteered to take 
the part of the deserted wife ? 99 

“ No ! ” — in concert. 

“Elinor Austin ; with that little tow-headed young 
one she calls her brother, for the child ! ” 

A dead silence, broken only by an expression of 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 139 

perfunctory dismay from Miss Bearse, rested on the 
little company for a moment, and then Miss Hoyt to 
the rescue : — 

“ Well, what of it?” 

“ Oh, nothing,” sighed Miss Guppy, despairingly, 
with what was meant for a very expressive wave of 
the hand. 

“ Will you tell us,” pursued her tormentor, “ pre- 
cisely why Elinor Austin is n’t at liberty to do ex- 
actly the things that any one of us here can do, and 
without exposing herself to criticism?” 

“You can hardly expect me to go into details,” 
replied Miss Guppy, with eyes upraised in maidenly 
protestation ; “ but I will say this : that for a person 
situated as I have tried, with all possible delicacy, to 
indicate that she is, the airs she gives herself are 
simply outrageous.” 

“Airs?” inquired Dorothy Cleveland, languidly, 
and in a tone that the little Bearse would have bar- 
tered her soul to acquire. 

“Yes, airs,” snapped Miss Guppy, now thoroughly 
aroused. “It was only yesterday that I met her on 
the street with that young cub with her as usual, 
and I stopped to say to her that if she called at my 
sister’s she could get some clothing that her own boy 
had cast off. She thanked me civilly enough in 
words, but informed me frigidly that Jimmie already 
had sufficient clothing, and the look she gave me as 
she passed on was enough to freeze your very soul.” 

“Wasn’t you hoppin’?” cried Miss Bearse, in- 
terestedly. Before Miss Guppy had an opportunity 


140 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


to say whether or not she was in the saltatory state 
of mind so elegantly indicated by the last speaker, 
Miss Taber interposed — very gravely for her : — 

“Are n’t we making a little free with one occupying 
the position Miss Austin holds? It seems to me if 
she wasn’t a proper person, the school committee 
would hardly have made her a teacher of one of our 
schools.” 

But Miss Guppy was n’t to be put off so easily. 

“It isn’t so certain that she was appointed upon 
her merits, moral or intellectual. If somebody 
had n’t had interest with the committee it ’s doubtful 
if she would even have been thought of.” 

“If you mean Mr. Lynden,” said Miss Taber, 
warmly, “ I don’t believe a word of it — or, if he did 
interest himself, that it was with any other motive 
than to aid a needy and deserving person. George 
— Mr. Sewell knows him well, and declares that he 
is the very soul of honor.” 

“Out upon this George,” cried the spinster rudely, 
though with professed pleasantry. “ He makes me 
tired.” 

How much further all present might have become 
involved in the discussion can never be known ; for 
at that moment the signal was given for the literary 
feast to commence, and conversation ceased. 

When the evening appointed for the “entertain- 
ment” arrived, the whole membership of the Literary 
League was present and so were two people whose 
attendance had not been counted on. At the con- 
clusion of the last act of the drama two gentlemen 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 141 

entered the hall, and took up a position in rear of 
the seats and in the shadow of an overhanging gallery. 

As the curtain rose on the repetition of the closing 
tableau, and Elinor Austin stood before that breath- 
less company, radiant in rich attire and with the 
velvet-clad, golden-haired Jimmie at her side, a sud- 
den exclamation that was almost a cry burst from the 
elder man’s lips. 

“ That is my wife’s sister, and there stands my 
boy ! ” said John Fairfax, trembling like a leaf. 

“God grant you may not be mistaken,” said 
Robert Lynden, fervently. 

And without waiting for the breaking up of the 
assemblage, or attracting the attention of any to 
whom either of them was known, the two men 
hurried from the hall. 


142 


THE islanders; 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Robert’s note to Fairfax’s London address had 
happily reached that gentleman after but a brief 
delay ; and losing no time he had taken the first 
steamer for New York, proceeding immediately 
thence to his friend’s home. 

Silencing Robert’s deprecatory talk about having 
perhaps brought him over on a wild-goose expedition 
and at an inclement season of the year, by assuring 
him that he would never have forgiven him had he 
done differently, Mr. Fairfax then proceeded to 
entreat of his friend one more favor — that he would 
accompany him to the Vineyard on his tour of 
investigation. 

In vain the young lawyer protested business 
engagements — the needlessness of his going along 
— a half dozen other petty excuses. His real 
objection, his dread of meeting Elinor, he could not 
mention ; and so finding one pretext after another 
disposed of, he was compelled at last to accord a 
reluctant assent. 

They started the following morning, Fairfax’s 
impatience brooking no further delay, and reached 
the Vineyard the following afternoon ; but having 
gone “ below ” for the passage over, and having 
arranged to land at Oak Bluffs as in summer, they 


A ROMANCE! 'OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 143 

were obliged to take carriage for Exham, where they 
arrived in the evening. 

It was too late to commence the prosecution of 
their inquiry that night, and supper having been 
disposed of and a few cigars smoked, there still 
remained a portion of the evening that was likely to 
hang heavy upon their hands : and so, as the night 
was fine, Robert proposed a stroll about the village. 

This was agreed to, and the two friends had about 
completed their ramble and were returning to their 
hotel, when Robert perceived that the hall which 
they were passing was brilliantly lighted, and sug- 
gested their going in, which they did, with the 
result already narrated. 

On reaching the hotel a serious consultation took 
place between the two friends in Fairfax’s room. 
The Englishman had not been so overcome by the 
knowledge that his wife was no longer living as 
might have been anticipated ; because the very 
statement of facts which had brought him to the 
Island for the third time involved the death of the 
wife and mother, and during all his ocean journey 
he had been accustoming himself to the relinquish- 
ment of that fond hope, and trying to solace himself 
with the thought that at least his boy was left to 
comfort him. That the child to whom he had first 
been so strongly attracted was his own he had no 
longer any doubt. 

“I am as certain that I saw my wife’s sister this 
evening,” said he, earnestly, “as that I am talking to 
you now. True she has grown a trifle fuller-figured 


144 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


and more womanly in the six or seven years since I 
saw her last, but her face — like her sister’s and yet 
unlike — is one that does not alter very much in a 
few years, and is not easily forgotten.” 

Robert felt that his heart echoed this last senti- 
ment ; but he only repeated the expression of his 
hope the night before, that his friend might not be 
in error. 

“ I must see her by appointment to-morrow,” con- 
tinued Fairfax ; “ and you must accompany me, to in- 
troduce me, and explain such papers as it may be 
necessary for me to show. You have her confidence 
no doubt, and being also a lawyer, will be of incal- 
culable assistance in convincing her of my identity 
— though that she will hardly question — and of 
my true relations to her sister, which she may not 
so readily credit.” 

And now Robert felt that he could go no further, 
and, as the easiest way out of his dilemma, concluded 
to make a clean breast of it and inform the English- 
man of his unhappy passion for Miss Austin, and of 
all that had passed between them. 

To his surprise, however, Fairfax took an entirely 
different view of the situation from what he had ex- 
pected. 

“You say there has n’t been anybody else?” 

“I have no reason to think there is anybody,” 
replied Robert. 

“ But that her father has prevented her as far 
as possible from making acquaintances, especially 
among the men ? ” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 145 
“Yes.” 

“ And that she is a very proud girl ? " 

“ I never knew one more so.” 

“ And yet that there have been occasions when her 
pride seemed to yield, and she appeared willing for 
you to think that she cared for you? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Depend upon it, my boy,” said Fairfax, glowing 
with interest in his friend’s case which had for the 
moment supplanted his own, “you have mistaken 
the signs of the times, or rather you have failed to 
consider the situation in all its bearings. If Miss 
Austin is anything like her sister, and her conduct 
has been as you describe, you are both the victims 
of circumstances which I trust will ere long prove 
less unkind. Depend upon it, the evil construction 
which Capt. Austin placed upon my flight with his 
daughter inspired in Elinor either a doubt of the 
honorable intentions of all men who might seek the 
society of women not exactly in their own social 
sphere, or else a belief that when she had told you 
(as she must) what she supposed was the truth rela- 
tive to her sister, you would shrink from an alliance 
with a family so disgraced.” 

“ Then you don’t consider that her behavior was 
evidence that she only yielded partially to the ear- 
nestness of my addresses, and then when left to 
herself realized that she could never care for me, 
and so did what she could to discourage further 
advances?” suggested Robert, thoughtfully. 

“No,” replied the other promptly. “You have 


146 


THE islanders; 


put your view of the case # very ingeniously ; but I 
have only to say that a girl such as you have de- 
scribed Elinor to be, and as she appears, and with 
the family traits as I have known them, would never 
have been guilty of the vacillating conduct you have 
imputed to her. On the contrary, if she had found 
that she could not return your affection in kind, she 
would have told you so, frankly, and ended it 
there.” 

“You may be right,” said Robert, doubtingly ; 
“ but I am loath to give myself hope again only to 
meet further disappointment. Still, if you really 
think my accompanying you on your errand will be 
of use to you, I will waive further objection and do 
as you wish. And if by chance the interview shall 
give us both our heart’s desire, two despondent men 
will be made happier instead of one.” 

And so saying Robert bade the Englishman good 
night and retired to his own room, to wear away 
the hours in every way but sleep. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 


147 


CHAPTER XXV. 

The brief note which Robert had despatched, 
conveyed to Elinor only the information that he 
would call on her at an hour named, and bring with 
him a friend who desired to see her concerning a 
matter of interest to them both. 

What that “ matter ” might be she had no means 
of divining, and everything but the truth was 
revolved in her mind and rejected in turn. The 
idea that Jimmie’s father might appear from England 
to claim his boy never for a moment occurred to 
her, and if it had would hardly have been enter- 
tained for obvious reasons. 

But that Robert was coming, the man whom she 
had schooled herself to believe she should never 
see again, was a fact that admitted of no question 
and rested upon no surmise. The man whose per- 
son she had succeeded in banishing from her pres- 
ence, but whose image she had in vain striven to 
efface from her heart, was coming again, would sit- 
in that room, would hold her hand for a moment, 
would speak to her in the tones she remembered so 
well. Was she glad? She hardly knew. Over 
and over she reviewed the arguments which had 
convinced her that under the circumstances there 


148 


THE ISLANDERS; 


could be no happiness for her in her love, and again 
and again she told herself that nothing had changed 
in the brief interval since last he was there. Still, 
the feeling that the day might have some joy in 
store for her was strong upon her, and it was with 
a lighter heart than she had known for many a 
weary week, that she went about her usual morning 
avocations, and gave Jimmie his goodby kiss be- 
fore sending him off to play. 

At the appointed hour Robert and Fairfax made 
their appearance, and were ushered in by a little 
maid who was temporarily assisting about the 
housework. 

Elinor crimsoned and then turned deathly pale as 
her eyes rested once more upon her lover, but the 
commonplaces of greeting which her stammering 
tongue almost refused to utter were lost in the cry 
of amazement with which she turned to the other 
man as Robert introduced his friend. 

“ You here ! ” she exclaimed. “ And for what? ” 

“To claim all that is left to me of her who was 
once my wife,” said Fairfax, sadly, at the same time 
drawing a paper from his pocket. 

“Your wife?” almost shrieked the girl. “Is it 
possible that my father was mistaken, and that all 
these years of privation and disgrace need never 
have been ? ” 

“It is even so, as you will see by this certificate 
of our marriage, which has never been out of my 
possession, and which Mr. Lynden will assure you 
is duly certified by the proper authority.” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 149 

“ But your desertion of my sister in Italy,” pur- 
sued Elinor, still but half convinced. 

“I will explain to you,” said Fairfax. And then 
followed a recital of the facts of his capture and 
ultimate escape, and of his subsequent fruitless wan- 
derings in search of his wife and child, — to all of 
which Elinor listened with breathless interest, while 
Robert watched the color come and go on the fail- 
face of his beloved, and wondered what influence, if 
any, this new disclosure would have upon his own 
fortunes. 

“And now,” concluded Fairfax, his story ended, 
“ I have come to claim my boy, trusting to find in 
him — he has his mother’s face — some compensation 
for the loss of her who has been my star of hope 
through all these weary years.” 

Jimmie coming in at this juncture, Robert excused 
himself and made his way back to the hotel, leaving 
the three to consider their mutual relations, and the 
boy to make the acquaintance of his new-found 
father, without the embarrassing presence of an in- 
different person. 

And yet, was he an “ indifferent person ? ” That 
was the question that occupied his mind to the ex- 
clusion of all else during the hours that elapsed 
before Fairfax’s return ; and when at last that gen- 
tleman reappeared and suggested that as Mr. Lynden 
had taken a somewhat abrupt leave of Miss Austin 
in the morning, perhaps he ought to make amends 
by a more formal farewell in the evening, Robert had 
already arrived at the conclusion that he owed it to 


150 


THE ISLANDERS ; 


himself to once more try his luck under the changed 
conditions. 

He found Elinor apparently expecting him, dressed 
simply and becomingly, and it seemed to him that 
she had never looked so beautiful. But there was 
the same lack of self-consciousness as of old, and 
the soft glance of the eye, the rising flush, and the 
tender curves about the mouth, that had led him to 
hope on one or two occasions before. 

“ Elinor,” he said at once, “ it has been hard for 
me to come, but I could not stay away. The same 
fate that sent me to the court room, and also let me 
save Jimmie, forced me hither. I seem to think of 
nothing but that sunny afternoon in the school-room, 
when Jimmie interrupted us and ” — 

“Sunny?” murmured Elinor, dreamily and irrel- 
evantly. 

“Well, sunny at least to me in memory, and as I 
then believed, to you. It was bright and beautiful 
to us both then. Do not deny it. You said you 
‘ believed.’ O Elinor, believe again. You did 
not stop loving me right away ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Have you not loved me since ? ” 

No answer, but in the silence a lovely face up- 
turned, and a glad surrender, after the many cruel 
days of sorrow, to the arms that opened and offered 
rest. 

“ And now tell me,” with man’s consistent unrea- 
sonableness, “what made you behave so absurdly all 
along? ” 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 151 

Then she told him that she believed she had loved 
him from the very first time he called at the house ; 
how at first it had seemed to shed a new light upon 
her life, and his apparent regard for her had created 
a great gladness in her heart until reminded by her 
father of the cloud that hung over them, and until 
she had convinced herself, by her father’s argument 
and her own, that no man valuing his social position 
would seek her in honorable marriage, or would 
adhere to his intention after having learned from her 
what she believed to be the truth. And so she had 
tried to stifle the love that filled her heart, and 
though now and again yielding in his presence to an 
impulse which would not be controlled, had, when 
free from his immediate influence interposed every 
possible discouragement in his way, even at the risk 
of seeming guilty of most inexcusable behavior. 
Now that what she had supposed was a terrible truth 
had proved to be only a lamentable mistake, she felt 
at liberty to confess her love and accept the gift 
which heaven had offered her. 

This recital — submitted hesitatingly, and with 
many blushes — had been properly punctuated here 
and there as occasion seemed to justify, and now, at 
its conclusion, was duly sealed with the great seal. 

Capt. Austin’s device of representing his dying 
daughter as his wife and so forestalling inquiries as 
to Jimmie’s paternity — and which was also effectual 
for a time in diverting Fairfax from the prosecution 
of his search in that quarter — has been sufficiently 
explained as the facts have developed. The adoption 


THE islanders; 


152 

of his middle name for his first may be here men- 
tioned, and but little then remains to be told to com- 
plete this veracious history. 

At a council held at the hotel that night it was 
agreed that all should start on the next day but one 
for Robert’s home, where as soon as practicable the 
wedding should take place, and whence the whole 
party should then sail for England — thus furnishing 
a bridal trip for the newly wedded pair, and giving 
Jimmie an opportunity to become acquainted with 
his natural guardian and new-found friends before 
being separated from her who had been a mother to 
him through all the years. 

And so, Elinor having consented, this programme 
was duly carried out — the Owens and Mr. Sewell 
being the only persons entrusted with the secret — 
and on the day appointed the little company took 
the boat from Exham for New Bedford, leaving Mr. 
Owen to make such disposition as he should see fit 
of Miss Austin’s worldly possessions. 

Two weeks later a quiet wedding took place at 
the Lyndens’ residence, the Rev. George Sewell 
officiating, with Mrs. Sewell {nee Miss Taber) as a 
guest of honor, and with Mrs. Lynden entirely rec- 
onciled to what now appeared to her to be a most 
desirable alliance ; and on the following day this 
romantically united company sailed for the mother 
country, where Jimmie found a fond grandmother 
awaiting him, whose loving ministrations soon rec- 
onciled him to the impending separation from all the 
mother he had known. 


A ROMANCE OF MARTHA’S VINEYARD. 153 

Years have passed since the occurrence of the 
events here narrated, and Robert Lynden is to-day a 
successful lawyer in Boston, while his lovely and 
accomplished wife is an acknowledged leader of 
society in the modern Athens. (They are now 
neighbors of the Sewells, and Robert takes occasion 
to inquire of the parson from time to time what are 
his present views as to where marriages are made.) 
Twice within that time Fairfax and his son, who is 
the pride of his father’s life, have crossed the ocean 
to visit them, and one summer since their wedding 
trip Robert and his wife have passed at the charming 
home of the Fairfaxes. 

But Mrs. Robert has never been able to overcome 
her repugnance to revisiting the scenes of her girlish 
sufferings. Her father’s remains now repose in the 
Lynden burial lot, so that the Vineyard has never 
since numbered the happy pair among its summer 
sojourners. 


THE END. 






AUCTIONEER, NOTARY PUBLIC 
AND JUSTICE OF THE PEACE. 


E. G. ELDRIDGE, 

Real Estate and Insurance Agent. 


OFFICES: 

ARCADE BUILDING 


AND 


VINEYARD GROVE CO.’S OFFICE, COTTAGE CITY, MASS. 


Cottages To Let. Cottages For Sale. Cottage Lots For Sale. 
Tracts of Land and Farms For Sale. Contracts made for Building, 
Painting, Repairing, and Moving Cottages. Deeds, Leases, Mort- 
gages and Conveyances of all kinds executed at this office. Cottages 
left in my care will be closed in the fall, personally inspected through 
the winter, and opened in the spring. 



WRITE FOR LIST OF PROPERTY 
FOR SALE AND TO LET. 

( 155 ) 


MAURY 



The Island of Chappaquid- 
dic forms the easterly side 
of Edgartown Harbor and is 
the southeasterly end of 
Martha’s Vineyard. “ Mau- 
ry ” fronts the lower harbor 
and Katama Bay in a re- 
markable succession of lofty 
bluffs. The bluffs descend 
abruptly to the waters of 
Katama Bay, across which, 
on a long narrow bar, tumble 
the breakers of the Atlan- 
tic. Rare facilities for boat- 
ing, bathing, fishing, riding, 
shooting and all out-door 
sports. Even and cool cli- 
mate. 


♦ 


For plans, prices and other particulars, address 


SAHUEL KENISTON, 


Edgartown, Mass 


DR. Hi. A. TUCKER’S 

DIAPHORETIC 

COMPOUND 


A VALUABLE REMEDY. 


READ I 

TO THE PEOPLE : 

I know by personal observation that 
DOCTOR H. A. ( TUCKER’S medicine, 
popularly called “No. 59,” is potent and 
safe. It ought to be on the shelf in every 
nursery and in the satchel on every jour- 
ney. Going from home, I always carry 
some of it with me, and have adminis- 
tered it to many who, in car and steamer , 
have been taken sick. Better smash your 
brandy flask and the various styles of 
“Bitters,” which are Rum put up under 
enticing nomenclature, and take with 
you a bottle of DOCTOR TUCKER’S 59 
as a pocket pistol with which to shoot 
down physical disorders. 

T. DE WITT TALMAGE. 

Brooklyn, July 11, 1878. 


SOLD BY ALL DBUGrGrlSTS. 

( 157 ) 


If Yo u Want a part of fhe Earlh, 


EAD THIS ! Cape Pogue, a famous point of land on the 



island of Chappaquiddic, comprising 250 acres, situated 


nearly opposite Cottage City, and but a little off the track of 
the Nantucket steamers, is now offered for sale at a bargain, 
in parcels to suit purchasers. In addition to the inducements 
offered by nearly eight miles of ocean and harbor water front, 
and an abundance of available fresh water, the owners offer 
to give four lots of land abutting on the shore to any person 
who shall build a house thereon costing not less than $1,000; 
this offer being limited to the first fifteen applicants, and sub- 
ject to withdrawal before acceptance. 


Address . . 


J. D. CONDICT, 40 Wall Street, New York 
Or SAM’L KENISTON, Edgartown, Mass. 




Phila., 1876 Frankfort, 1881 

Berlin, 1877 Amsterdam, 1883 

Paris, 1878 New Orleans, ’84-S 

Melbourne, 1880 Paris, 1889 


Paris Medal on every bottle. 


Awarded highest honors at 


Beware of Imitations. 


and wherever exhibited. 


LADIES! 


Use Only 


( 158 ) 


Chamberlain,^ 

THE LEADING PHOTOGRAPHER, 

Woonsocket, R. I. 
AOT> Cottage City, Mass., 

MAKES ALL KINDS OF 


Views, Groups, Pastel, Water-Colors 
and Crayon Pictures. 



This house is located and built with special reference to the comfort, 
convenience and pleasure of summer guests, and is a new departure from ihe 
standard sea-shore hotel. All its appointments are first class, and it is conducted 
in a manner that has received the endorsement of the public by a patronage 
that has made its success phenomenal. 

OFEiV FROM JTIJJVE TO OCTOBER . 

TERMS : Board, with room, $12.00 to $18.00 per week; Table Board, $1.25 
per day ; Transient, $2.50 per day. 

Address: Mrs. C. W. PETTEE, Island of Nantucket, Mass. 

( 159 ) 


WESLEY HOUSE - COTTAGE CITY, MASS. 


Terms s 82.00, 82.50 and 83,00 per day ; 
810.00 to 818.00 per week. 



Coolest and Most Centrally Located. 


( 160 ) 


WESLEY & BRAINARD - - Proprietors 


Pairpoint Manufacturing Go., 

NEW BEDFORD, MASS. 



NEW YORK. CHICAGO. SAN FRANCISCO. 

DRISCOL, CHURCH & HALL, 
Corner of Union and First Sts., 

NEW BEDFORD, MASS. 

WHOLESALE DEALERS IN 

Staple and Fancy Groceries, 

PETROLEUM OIL AND PROVISIONS. 


SOLE AGENTS FOR 

White Rose Oil; 

D. M. Anthony’s Lard, Pork and Hams; 
White Satin Salt; D. C. & H. Cigars. 

(ici) 


PLATED WARE. 



( 102 ) 


Hedford, £f)ess. 



Comfortable ano Homelike pnCTHM Cool and Attractive 
in Winter. I LS IM ■ in Summer. 

A MODEL 

AMERICAN HOTEL ON THE AMERICAN PLAN. 



The United States Hotel, 
^^boston= — 

FIVEHUNDRED ROOMS, COVERING THE ENTIRE SQUARE, 

Beach, Kingston, Lincoln and Tufts Streets. 


NEAR ALL THE GREAT SOUTHERN AND WESTERN R.R. 
STATIONS. 

CONVENIENTLY LOCATED FOR BUSINESS OR 

Cuisine and Service PLEASURE. Rooms En Suite, Single 

Unsurpassed. and with Bath. 

Send for Descriptive Circular. 

TILLY HAYNES, 

Resident Proprietor. 


( 163 ) 


MAUVE STEAMSHIP COMPANY 


Long Island Sound and New England Coast Line 

— TO — 

COTTAGE CITY, MASS., PORTLAND, ME. 

And Northern Summer Resorts. 

This route affords to Tourists and Pleasure Seekers a most diversified and 
enjoyable itinerary to the Famous Pleasure Resorts of the North and East, com- 
bining the health-giving influences of a most charming OCEAN VOYAGE, replete 
with Landscape and Waterscape Scenery, and an unsurpassed Railway ride over 
magnificent roads, superbly equipped, to the Famous Mountain and Seacoast 
Resorts of Northern New England. 

The New, Elegant and Swift Steamers (built expressly for this route), 

COTTAGE CITY, 2,000 tons, Capt. John Bennett, and 

MANHATTAN, 2,000 tons, Capt. Albert Bragg 

Leave Pier 38, East River, foot of Marke* St. New York, at 5 p.m., every Monday, 
Wednesday and Saturday. 

Returning, leave Franklin Wharf, Portland, every Monday, Wednesday and Satur- 
day at 6 p. m. Leave Cottage City fjr either New York or Portland on 
Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday mornings at 6 o’clock. 

Time between New York and Portland about 25 hours. 

These Steamships Connect at Portland with 

Maine Central Railroad for White Mountains, Poland Springs, Bar Harbor and 
all points in Maine, Montreal and Quebec, Canada. 

Boston & Maine for Old Orchard, Kennebunk and Portsmouth. 

Grand Trunk Railroad for Gorham. Bethel, Poland Springs, and all points in 
Canada: and with Steamers for Rockland, Bangor, Mt. Desert, Eastport, Calais 
and St. John, N. B. 


H. HAUL, Agent, New York. J. P. LISCOMB, Gen’l Ag’t, Portland. 
CHARLES BATES, Agent, Cottage City. 


LAGOON HEIGHTS. 

The most beautiful location on the Island of Martha's Vineyard, 
the natural sanitarium of the United States. 


A fine hotel and cot- 
tages are already built, 
and filled with guests. 
Shade trees set out along 
the avenues, which are 
to be covered with as- 
phalt. A street rail- 
road passes through the 
grounds and will be run 
by electricity. 


LAGOON 

HEIGHTS. 


The 200 acres have 
been platted by a land- 
scape gardener, and the 
cottage lots will be of- 
fered for sale this sum- 
mer by the 

Lagoon Heights 
Land Co. 


The public are invited to visit the property, and lots will be sold in size 
and number to suit purchasers. Address, 


W. A. BOLAND, Prospect House, Lagoon Heights, 

or 6io Exchange Building, Boston, Mass. 

( 164 ) 


SEA VIEW HODSE 



Located on the Bluffs overlook- 
ing Vineyard Sound. 

Near Oak Bluffs Pier. 


FRED. J. HART, Proprietor, 


Gafe de Rorqe, 

20-21 MONTGOMERY SQUARE, 

Cottage City, Mass. 

Through the Arcade. 

The only FRENCH RESTAURANT and 

Celebrated ICE CREAM Place. 

ALEX. DE LONGO, Proprietor. 

Formerly of the Grand Hotel, Paris. 

LINTON, WORTH & CO., 

FINE FAMILY GROCERS , 

CIRCUIT AVEI1TTJE3, 

Cottage City, Mass. 


Cottagers and Yachtsmen supplied promptly with 
Choice and Fresh GROCERIES at New York Prices. 

( 166 ) 


MEATS AND 
VEGETABLES 



t. 


Families, Hotels, 

Boarding Houses 

Supplied at short notice. 

Montgomery Square, 

Just inside Arcade, 

COTTAGE CITY - MASS. 

Martha’s Vineyard, 

Mass. 


BUY THE 

SOUVENIR ALBUM 


MARTHA’S VINEYARD, 

With 40 Illustrated Views 

AND BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF COTTAGE CITY. 

PUBLISHED BY 

J-. IF 1 . MURPHY, 
News Agent Old Colony R. R. Depot, 

AMD 

SEA VIEW HOUSE, COTTAGE CITY. 

( 167 ) 


jnarttia's * Vineyard * Herald, 

COTTAGE CITY, MASS. 


PUBLISHED DURING THE YEAR. 

Semi- Weekly in Summer. 
PRICE $2.00 PER YEAR. 

Fine Job Printing. All the Latest Faces of Type. 

NORTON’S PHARMACY, 

129 Circuit Avenue, 

OPPOSITE POST-OFFICE. 

A COMPLETE ASSORTMENT 

OB’ 

Apothecary’s Articles, Pure Drugs, 
Choice Toilet Articles, 

And Perfumery. 


PRESCRIPTIONS A SPECIALTY. 

( 168 ) 


THE BEST PLACE TO 


L 

U 

C 

E 

B 

B 

0 

S. 


****** 

J^RY GOODS, Boots and Shoes, 
Carpets, Straw Matting, Win- 
dow Shades, Upholstery Goods, Hats 
and Caps, Bathing Suits and Shoes, 
Gents’ Furnishing Goods, Trunks, 
Bags, Oil Cloth, Rugs, Etc. 

* * * * * * 


B 

U 

Y 

Y 
0 
U 
R 


—^VINEYARD HAVEN 


THE CROCKER HARNESS CO. 

Wholesale Manufacturers and Dealers in Harness and Collars. 


Boston 
Store : 
No. 31 
Franklin 
Street. 

E. F. Wyer, 



Manager. 


Horse Furnishing Goods of Every Description. 


Frovidence 
Store : 
No. 33 
Washington 
Street. 

W. H. \ 
Whitteraore, 
Manager. 


MAIN OFFICE AND WORKS, VINEYARD HAVEN, MASS. 

f ICO') 



LOOK,WASHBURN&CO. 

Wholesale and Retail Dealers in . . 

Meats * and ® provisions. 

ORDERS CALLED FOR AND GOODS DELIVERED. 

All tlie Delicacies of the Season. 
FAMILY TRADE SOLICITED. 

NOVELTY MARKET, EAGLE MARKET, 

Above Post-Office, Cottage City, Opp. Narragansett Ave„ Cottage City. 

BRANCHES : Edgartown and Vineyard Haven. 

CHARLES SNOW’S 

REAL ESTATE 
AGENCY /. 

— Circuit Avenue. 

COTTAGES FOR SALE AND TO LET. 

Cottage City . . Martha’s Vineyard, Mass, 

( 170 ) 


a vvO< 6 A . -V s ' 
\0& X 

At West Chop, Martha’s Yinayard, 


July 18 to August 11. 


Modem Normal Methods for Teachers. 


\ 

The WEST CHOP INN affords ample accommodations and 
an unexcelled table. Terms: Table Board, 85.00 per week; 
Booms, 82.00 to 84.00 per week. 


Stephen C. Luce, 

Vineyard Haven, Mass. 

Orders called for and promptly delivered. 


Telephone Connection with all parts of the island. 


Established 18*58. 


G. F. YOUNG & BROTHER, 

Wholesale Tobacconists, 

27-29 WESTMINSTER STREET, 

Providence , R. I. 


BRANDS OF CIGARS: 

GEN. ARTHUR , UP-AN-UP, 

ARBITRATORS , R. I. CIGAR. 

PIPES, SNUFFS and TOBACCO. 

SMOKERS’ ARTICLES A SPECIALTY. 

BRANDS OF PLUG TOBACCO: 

R. I. IF*, or IX. ’91. 

ALL KINDS OF 

Cut PTag for Smoking. 


NICHOLAS B. YOUNG. 

( 172 ) 



A TREAT FOR THE 

Home, Camp or Cruise. 

TUB 

“FERRIS 
FAMOUS 

HAMS 

AND 

Boneless B acon. 

If you are not familiar with their high quality, 
please TRY THEM. When you decide in their 
favor, don't let your Grocer put you off with 
anything else. 

"Omr J UTILE tilBHER IK PRICE. BUT— I” 









\ 






CD C 

V> * 

-4 ~ ✓ 


* v * , <** i 

0 ° * ^Nx . <* 



rv*V^ 0 ^ Q /Xy 

,^v ^ 


* 


o 4 

> ^ 


/■ 

V- ^ ' 

% 

* o f ^ 


c-, & 

rt r- 



' '*cr^. > ^ - "<5 

0 KC, V '“ S V •V., ^ 

V V s - * w/ ^ 5 ' 

' B 

| M/Tffl, *> 

' 7 o 





?p \V ^ rA^^'Tn r ' <£> (A 

^ ^ - MM/A ° •%• 

.* ^ : 


^ _ \° o, 

, ;<v* o n o >*/ , . „ ; V • './\ - - ;v * • ■ • ’ / 

' * * < 7 , a\- * 

* v * _ 

* ,^ v '•?/> o %n^§ " 

« 'V V, ^ V -9&AK * V? V* * 

/ V, CX * <S £> 4 . 

i. " \U X/ , x s *A O, y o ^ ^ ^ 

f ~ b o 




o< */v' 7 '/^i^X' 0 ’ 1 V°.‘ • " e • **- 



, "V * a NO ’* -'°' 

A * cv V * 1 0 * ^ 

^ ^ r <? < 5 , * 


(T * ✓ NX s> 3 ' j <» | 

., < 2 *. * 0 no" v ^ 

^ c v^ . „ 

: ^ ^ ^ 

* o v * % ^i§ 5 / * * ^ ^ ( trv^ «$? <?* * 

* <" A O, y o ,*' 4 , 0 ^ < 

ic° N S/ 1 p ,/v* l, '% V r 0 ^C 0NC « 

V ^ _r^\\. k .. * v ^ -i£> y?/^ 7 - . ^ ^ /-nT^v. ^ 





X 0 o x. 




on 0 




<V 

^ - v 




A 

<P ,^v 


<V t /> / c® C v^> 

r aV v </> ° *(//«» UV >. C> «<* 

*. ‘V ^ v> %<• * 

$. «£) -4 O V ✓ 

A O ^ ft V ^ ,(V ^ 

- 7 - 0 * x 0 N c . C 

O-s G 0 V 4 C ^ ** 



1 

+ 

-< 

K , * 

° V^. 

5 o* r ^> 1 » , n*' <0° 

fc. *"* ; ,'••. > . 9 * V \AL> -cr. 

• ^ - ’■-as.*- .* ** « % 

"V <* o 


> ^ A* 

</> \ v 


* c? ^ - 

* oV ^ ", 





^>> r «A^ * 

^ t< v 


^ < 


* < * 7, 

o aV ^ ° V/ as w * 

*> * <%. ^ 

O y o * \ ^ Xy <" 

, "V t ,, ‘<. '<?. 

* o C) * 



q5 ^ 


% A# 


^ <-** ; J/<*" V v 

°V’"°’ /„-o, % *"'\/ 

^ ^ t- <o c>» ^ a "A 

* ^ - r .A .A * 

o *V . <*v» o 
Z 2- ^ * 

° <\^ V ^ ° 


c 


F V* »£ 

l b ^ v< \ °aL„. 

|A O, y 0 * X * <G^ 

r t .<- 1 * * ? o. , 0 > c»~ c * y 

= ^ ■*. * ^ 

_ * c^_ ^ A CV ^ 

0 ■> .. . . ^ * 8 1 A * ^° s ** r °*t* 

^ Sjzm^r ^ . 

: ^ ^ x 


'■ ^ _ t 

: v 


L° o n c v /y * * s S A^ 

V c 0 >? <f> » V c <• 

4 ! 7 ^<\ ^ ^ t f» J. . 

I a. ^-A\\Yi^ J y . \ \ 




/K\ 


\ V 

x' O 0 C* '* b 

» . ll" ’ 'J ^ * 3 N 

r> ^ v v > ' 

r ■> /V s vJtiSBHk'* ^ vV 'K< 

At «/> / » A A _ _ a\ 

« .A > V. = %// 

b. A' •>* u» v ^ ^ 

<^* ^ C^ -A V* y 

O y . 0 , k * <0 

^ 0 * * ^4 rx N r ' s> o ’ 

^ (\ v f ° w c /» 

v ^ '-^ a 1 

^ v? 

1 *> 






